Safe and Sound
by Zeragii
Summary: The night in the forest was dark and quiet. Nearby, in the small, Gaulish village, everyone lay asleep in their beds; no one stirred. Crickets chirped and frogs gave a deep thrum every so often. Everything seemed calm...but, as everyone knows, things aren't always as they seem... (NOW BEING REWRITTEN AS OF 2/9/2016!)
1. Disaster Strikes

**I do not own Asterix, or anything related to it. I do not write for profit, only for my (and other people's) enjoyment. ENJOY!**

**This story is now in the process of being rewritten. None of the story has changed, I am simply adding to it, because my writing has improved since I wrote this, and I honestly wanted to try to do this story justice. ;) Whenever a chapter has been rewritten I will write "Rewritten" at the bottom of the page. ;)**

* * *

The night in the forest was dark and quiet. The only thing to be heard for miles was the soft chirping of crickets and the hum of other bugs in the grassy thickets. No birds cried out, for it was still far too early, but they would soon be gracing the world with their songs, within the hour perhaps. Shadows spread over the land like a blacket, a dark, blue shroud, studded with stars that were only now just beginning to fade. It covered the forest, and the fields, and sparkled and danced across the smooth sea beyond. And there, beside the waters, it also covered the homes of a small Gaulish village. In it there was no activity or noise, for everyone lay asleep in their beds; no one stirred. Frogs gave a deep thrum every so often, the sound rising up into the deserted streets of the village, playing the nightly music of summer. Everything seemed calm...but, as everyone knows, things aren't always as they seem.

Not far from the Gaul's village, on the fringes of the dark recessess of the cool, fresh forest, many pairs of eyes were watching, waiting in the stillness with barely contained anticipation. Roman soldiers, a half legion strong, hid by cover of the thick leaves and brush. Many were anxious, uncomfortable by their proximity to the aleged Gauls that had caused so much trouble to Rome, and all who had tried to remove them. Those who did not know any better were excited, prepared and ready to fight for the land they believed was rightfully theirs. Rightfully might Caesar's. Their smarter companions merely shook their heads, closing their eyes in silent prayer to the gods that they might survive the coming menuver.

Those of higher rank, after having ensured that their men were quiet and settled for the time being, met within the center of their makeshift camp, in the tent of their commander. The interior was lit by lamplight, just enough to see by, and certainly not enough to give away their presence to any watchful eye that might chance their way. Seated at a low table, gazing feicely at a hand drawn map of the Gaulish village, sat the Roman legion's leader, Commander Spacious.

He was a fat, ugly fellow, of a normal height, whose round face matched his equally round stomach. His nose was far to small for his face, as was his eyes, which burned black as night with a gleam of defient anger which, despite his rarety to rage, always seemed just below the surface. It hid beneath a toothy grin that always gave the impression of glee, but in a sort of way that made you very glad if it was a mood fixed on someone other than yourself. He held himself straight, never slouching, an air of command about him that no soldier dared to question. The Commander had shown up some time ago, with special permission from Caesar himself to try a new weapon against the Gauls, in the hopes of defeating the troublesome lot for good. Spacious had gone from Roman camp to Roman camp, choosing the finest men, until they equalled three thousand men. Despite his enthusiasm, some of his soldiers were far less hopeful. But, of course, no one was willing to say it out loud.

"We shall attack at dawn," the leader spoke calmly, his fingers slowly sliding over the map before him, almost stroking it like some pet under his care. His eyes, however, were fixed on his men, reading their expressions as he continued, his eyes smirking with anticipation. "Before they're even fully awake, we shall send such a shock into their midst as they have ever known. That should do the damage we require to begin our work."

The other Romans smiled happily at the thought, though reality forbid them to enjoy the fantasy too long. Though they had been planning this for weeks, there was still no garentee that it would work. Many had come before this; leagionaries, commanders, spies, and more. Even Caesar himself. Troop after troop had been sent to destroy the indomideable Gauls, and they had all failed time after time. But they could not help but try to believe that it would not happen this time. They were prepared, and strong in number. And with the knowledge of some special weapon that only a select few of them had been allowed to see made the possibility of victory all the more real. Today, that very morning even, perhaps they would be victorious!

"This could finally be their undoing," one Roman whispered, snickering in glee at the thought. He had fought the Gauls of this village many times, and had lost a fair number of teeth because of it. He hated them, and feared them, and the thought of them getting their just desserts was something he craved, like so many of his companions. A smaller, and slightly more battered and dimwitted man beside him gave their Commander a cock of his head.

"Uh...But don't they have this, uh, magic potion, that, uh...makes dem strong?" he asked, his stuttering, unfocused language making him hard to understand. He received a smash on the helmet from his neighbor for even mentioning the acursed substance that had defeated even Caesar himself. The helm jammed down over his eyes, which did nothing to increase his lack of appearance as an intellect. As the soldier struggled to pull the offending item off his head, Spacious outlined their plan to him once again, in that same, calm voice that betrayed no anger.

"That is very simple," he gleamed. "We have been watching this little village for the last four months. Our spies have discovered that these Gauls run short of their prescious potion ingredients every few weeks. After which, their druid goes into the forest to gather more. According to our observations, they should be just about out by now. This means they don't have enough potion to fight us off effectively. We shall attack them before they can restock their supply, and lay siege until they surrender." He smiled crookedly, "They'll be no match for our might."

Another soldier, by the name of Overcatious, spoke up nervously, his teeth clattering loudly despite his efforts to silence them. "W-what about the b-big G-G-Gaul?" He was referring to the Gaul known as Obelix, a great, hulking brute who never ran out of his powerful strenth, at least, as far as anyone knew. The fellow was a monster, a beast who enjoyed battle as though it were nothing more than a game. Feared by every soldier, stories were told of Obelix's power. They told of how a single punch from his fist could send one flying as high as the clouds, before the descent to earth was punctuated by the crash of armored body to ground. So far, no one had died from the encounters, but why tempt fate?

Spacious rolled his eyes in slight annoyance. He had heard stories of this man, but still he was unconcerned. "Shall we say, he will be too busy with other, more pressing matters. We shall strike, and strike hard, but remain out of sight. They will be unable to leave the gates of their own village without facing death, but will be hard pressed to stay within its walls. When hunger drives them out, they will be defeated, at last." He gave an evil laugh, and the others joined in nervously. "Ready the catapult."

In the flurry of activity that filled the tent as the handful of soldiers left in a hurry to do the Cammander's bidding. Soon, the tent was empty, but for the superior himself, who was still running his fingers over the crudely made map, raking his nails over the surface as though it would somehow damage the real thing it represented. Spacious stood there, smiling wickedly in anticipation. Before long, he would be giving the command he had so longed to give.

"Sleep well, Gauls. While you can."

* * *

_Cacofonix stood proudly in the center of his beloved village, before all his friends and neighbors who surounded him in a croud so eager to see and hear him. His voice, so strong and sweet, drifted up around them as he sang in a beautiful voice, while the villagers looked on in awe. It was like the shifting sounds of sping, so soft and gentle, so that all who heard the melodous tones couldn't help but smile in joy._

_"How did you ever get such an amazing voice, Cacofonix?" Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix asked in unison, their hands raised in surprise, rather than the blows the bard knew so well. __Cacofonix smiled, enraptured in the moment. It was wonderful. Freeing. Calming. Everything his life had never been before, except whenever he sang. He had tried to share it so many times, only to be told of its worthlessness. But now -Oh now!- how they loved his singing! It filled him with a peace and warmth he wasn't sure he had ever known...But sadly, it was not to last._

_Quite suddenly, the sky began to glow a brilliant red, the hue of flowing blood. Fire seemed to shoot out all around the village, licking toward the crowd as screams filled the air, panicked Gauls fleeing left and right. All at once, Cacofonix felt like the walls of the village he loved, his safe haven, were closing in on him, like a monster threatening to engulf him. Trying to choke the life from him. He tried to cry out, but his mouth felt dry and he couldn't utter a word. A great shadow started to spread slowly across the ground toward him, claws of black that reached and reached. He wanted to run, to go anywhere but stay there, but his legs felt weak and useless, they wouldn't obey him. The terrible, raging shadow came closer and closer, until suddenly he was plunged into complete and total darkness..._

"AH!"

_THUMP!_

With a low, hard thud, Cacofonix, the Gaulish bard, fell out of nest-like bed with a wild yelp. He lay upon the wooden floor boards of his tree cottage, legs tangled in the sheets and blankets above him, still partially on the bed, while his head and lower body resided on the ground. Breathing heavily, chest rising and falling in fast, desperate gulps of air, he waited dizzily for his heart to slow down from its galloping beat. Disoriented, and with his mind's eye still reeling from the images of the nightmare, he tried to get his eyes to refocus on reality, but it wasn't easy.

_This_ _is_ _the_ _sixth_ _night_ _in_ _a row_! he thought with a mental shudder, shakily detaching himself from the sheets when he felt sufficiently calm enough to do so. It was true. Every night the dream returned, bringing with it the first appealing breaths of wonder, and then the fear-ridden grips of horror. It had been bad before, but this time it had been more vivid, more real. He shivered. _More __terrifying_.

These dreams were really starting to get on the poor bard's frayed nerves, and it was really beginning to show. He could recall several people requiring about his health the day before. He had started feeling tired, even in the early morning, wanting nothing more than sleep. But when it came time to do so, it was only a fractured, uneasy rest. He was beginning to be afraid of going to bed at night at all, as the dreams worsened, becoming more heartrendingly painful to live through, night after night. Despite his distress, he had told no one, not even Gatafix, who, as the village druid, might have been able to do something about it. They'd probably only laugh at him, anyway. After all, who ever got sick over a series of silly nightmares? It was, after all, only a dream. A terrible, horrid, life shattering vision that continued to haunt him, even during the day. He couldn't stop thinking about it. It mixed his greatest wish and his greatest fear all into one long, swirling haze of confusion. It made it hard to think, or sing, or play, though he had tried. He just couldn't concentrate. And worst of all, no one seemed to care.

Cacofonix felt a sad tug at his heart. He knew they didn't mean anything by it, and it wasn't like he had ever told them how it made him feel, but the villagers always treated him...well, with impatience. His singing was often received with groans and a sharp thump to the head. Either that or they tied him to a tree. And it wasn't just that. His advice and opinions were always overlooked, cast aside and considered worthless, or, at least, that's how it felt sometimes. He was the village bard, for goodness sake! What else would they expect him to do? Why didn't they appreciate him?

Cacofonix sighed, running a still slightly shaky hand through his blond hair. He was overthinking things. He was exhausted. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in almost a full weak. It was making everything out to be far more upsetting than he normally would have found it. He knew the others didn't care for his singing, but despite all the jokes, and roughing up, and angry insults, he knew he could never leave them. They were his friends, no matter how they treated him. And Cacofonix knew, deep down, that they cared for him, even when he was to emotionally sensitive to see it. At least, he hoped they did.

Knowing from experience that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep after the dream, Cacofonix tiredly pulled a woolen blanket from his bed, wrapping it and its warmth around himself. With a sense of aimless wandering, he walked slowly out the door of his tree cottage, onto the wooden platform. The air was colder than usual, especially for summer, but he didn't mind. With the blanket he was really pretty comfortable. He smiled as he glanced down at the other huts, bound close to the solid earth below. His home was the only one of it's kind, that he could think of, and he loved it dearly. It provided such a beautiful view, both of the village and the world stretching in all directions beyond it. To the North, the sea stretched like a sparkling, blue mirror, and to the South nothing but ongoing carpets of trees and glens, rolling gently into the distance. From his vantage point the bard saw that the sun was just beginning to rise, as a faint glow appeared in the East. The sound of chirps and squawks in the forest heralded the awakening of the birds as they flew from their nests to start their day, searching for insects in the Gualish soil.

As the Gaul's eyes roved gently over the landscape, something unusual caught his attention. A movement, far too large for the time of day. Far to large for _any_ time of day. Unsure and curious as to what it was, Cacofonix shifted carefully along the platform, right up to the very edge, so he could have a closer look. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus. His vision was still hazed from what little sleep he had gotten, blurred by the sleep he had not. He stood like that for a moment, gazing toward the fringe of the forest facing the village gates. At first, he saw nothing. But then, again something moved. The bard's eyes widened as the object, which was even larger than he had thought, came into view. The bard suddenly leaped back with a startled look on his face, letting the blanket drop from his shoulders as he turned to run for the spiral staircase that led to the ground.

He heard a sound, a great snap and a whoosh that he recognized all too well. "Oh no!" was the only thing he could manage, just before something huge and covered in roaring flames slammed into the side of his tree, nearly level with the platform.

* * *

Unhygienix awoke to the sound of a terrible bang, so strong it very nearly shook him from his bed. That, in turn, was followed by an explosion that shook the entire village like an earthquake. Throwing the blankets off himself, the portly fishmonger stumbled out of bed, running unsteadily to his cottage door, still slightly encumbered by sleep. Behind him he could hear his wife, Bacteria, wailing in fear as she too got up, her motherly instinct prompting her to run for the room their two sons slept in rather than the door or window.

"Unhygienix! What's happening!" she shrilled, her two boys having found her, clinging to her nightclothes, eyes wide in fear.

"I don't know!" he yelled back, finally making it to the door and flinging it open. "But I'll-" He broke off as his eyes took in the very last thing he had pictured in his mind. He hadn't even been sure what he would see. And, in truth, he had been more curious than worried. Usually, explosions meant that Getafix was exploring some new concoction or other, but the druid usually had the sense to do so outside and away from the village. And he certainly had the sense to not do so at night, when they were all trying to sleep. That was why Unhygienix had been curious. But now, as he gazed around at the confusing sight before him in growing shock, he was far more than worried.

The entire village was aglow with the intense, hot light of a raging fire. He recognized the sound and warmth, the crackle of burning timber, though he couldn't yet see the fire itself. Shadows, dark and long, danced away as smoke lifted up and away, blocking out what had been a beautiful, starry night. If had been a barn or stable, it wouldn't have been so bad, but the direction the light was coming, and the small bits of raining ash, still alight, told the fishmonger a very different story. With a cry of fear, Unhygienix rushed outside, turning as he exited to look upward at the tree hut that towered above his own cottage. That was when true terror gripped him. Cacofonix's tree was nearly engulfed in a burning inferno of flame and smoke. Branches, and leaves curled, being slowly consumed by the licking heat, filling the air with the smell of strong oak. Villagers, racing out of their homes, joined Unhygienix, all staring up in a panic, mindful of the falling embers.

Realizing the emergency of the situation, Unhygienix ran back inside and grabbed his wife and sons, hurrying them out of harms way, fearing that at any moment their home would catch fire as well. Every other man in the village did the same, bringing their families to the far corner of the village away from the bard's tree, for fear that the flames might spread. Once the woman and children were safe, the men quickly turned and ran back to the base of the burning tree, hoping with all their beings that there would be something they could do to stop the flames. Unhygienix found himself running alongside Fulliautomatix. The blacksmith looked terrified and bedraggled, also having jumped out of bed from a sound sleep, but he was far from angry. The crowd of Gauls made it back to the tree house as if began creaking and groaning as the heat began eating away at its stability.

Getafix was already there, his face pale with worry as he gazed upward, eyes aglow with the reflection of bright yellow flames. "Cacofonix!" he cried desperately, looking up to the burning structure with a fading hope. Everyone strained their eyes against the glare, praying the bard would appear. But he didn't. They began to feel panic well up inside them, as their worry for their friend grew to a barely controllable height. They all started shouting their friend's name, but still no answer came.

"That's it!" Asterix yelled above the noise, having come and joined the crowd the minute he had been awoken by all the noise. He had a tendency to sense when things weren't quite right, and his sleep had become restless. He had almost felt the need to get up before the explosion had sounded, and hearing the sound itself had been enough to send him racing out of door all his nightclothes, as had everyone else. "That's it! I'm going up there!" Bracing himself, Asterix carefully tested the first rung of the spiral staircase of the tree hut, before he started to climb the steps with Obelix right behind him. But as the larger Gaul began to follow, the tree creaked dangerously beneath his weight. Everyone flinched.

Asterix breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened. He looked over his shoulder, giving his friend an apologetic look, the grateful but saddened gaze told of his deep regret. "I'm sorry, Obelix, but I'm afraid your just too much for this structure to hold right now." Which was really too bad. Asterix would have much rather of had his closest friend beside him during something like this. But that really couldn't be helped.

Obelix blinked, the realization that he couldn't follow slowly sinking in, filling him with a sense or worried frustration. Muttering huffily under his breath as he stepped down and off the steps, he moved aside, watching his friend head into danger without him. Asterix turned to carry on alone, but when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he swung back around. He was met with the grim faces of Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix, who had come up behind him, looking very anxious. They didn't have to say anything, Asterix already knew what their unspoken request was, and he appreciated it. With a nod, Asterix began the ascent once more, minding the falling embers and burning wood that fell around them. Behind him, Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix followed, up to the smoldering tree cottage so far above the village.

* * *

Cacofonix coughed, dragging himself forward with great difficulty. He wanted more than anything to rise to his feet, but some parts of his body felt numb, and they wouldn't respond to his commands to work. His mind was hazed, unfocused and frightened. He wasn't completely aware of just how much danger he was in, or even what had happened, but he knew that he needed to move. He needed to get out.

When the ball of fire had hit, he had been sent flying, the shock and strength of the impact sending him crashing right through the window of his cottage, rather than being thrown from the platform to the ground below. But he wasn't safe. The roof crackled and burned as it began to succumb to the blaze now set upon it. Cacofonix vaguely felt the tree shudder, shaking under its slowly consumed weight. The bard tried again to raise to his feet, but only felt pain shoot up his side and all over his body when he did so. He must have broke something. The smoke hurt his eyes and throat, and made it hard to breath, filling his lungs with burning smoke. He couldn't tell which direction the door was in, even if he could make it there.

"Cacofonix!" A voice, barely heard over the roaring flames. It sounded far away, but the bard heard it. He fixed his focus upon it, not caring about anything else. It was the lifeline he needed so badly, and he clung to the small hope it gave him, trying to utter some sort of response. But whenever the bard opened his mouth to answer, no sound came out. No words, anyway, at least in the understandable sense. The foul air entering his lungs was released in a rush as he was launched into a violent fit of heavy coughing. His eyes slammed shut at each wracking cough, watering when each gasp burned his throat more. Painful as it was, it was perhaps the best thing that could have happened to the him.

"Did you hear that?" Asterix asked hurriedly, his head swinging from side to side as he gazed in through the door into the burning cottage. He was breathing into his shirt to keep the smoke from entering his body, knowing that if he and the others fell unconscious, there would be no time for someone to rescue them. The other two Gauls had stopped in their tracks at his words, ears strained as they tried to pick up any sounds of life. All three were standing at the entrance to the burning tree cottage, gazing in fear at the blazing room within. The heat was frightful, causing the interior to waver and dance; at least, that which was visible through the smoke.

Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix listened carefully, straining their sight and their hearing, praying that the three of them were not too late to help their friend. The sound of roaring flames and crackling wood was tremendous, blocking out any chance of detecting any other noise. At least, at first. Something broke out, through the debris and ash, and after a moment they realized it was the sound of sharp, desperate coughing.

"I hear him!" Unhygienix cried, taking a worried step forward, though not passing Asterix, waiting to be told a plan despite his fear. "But I can't tell from where!"

Asterix began shifting forward, his feet tapping the floor carefully in front of himself, testing the wood. Most of the floor hadn't caught fire yet, but the roof was disintegrating very quickly. Some of the larger beams had already fallen down inside, still flaming. "Spread out and make your way to a section of the house!" Asterix yelled over the noise. "Unhygienix, you go left, I'll take the middle, and you, Fulliautomatix, you take the right. Keep an eye open for him, and be careful!" Asterix moved forward, determined to find the bard before there was no reason to. The other two Gauls did as they were told, following his example.

Carefully making his way under a fallen beam, mindful not to let the burning material touch him or his clothes, Fulliautomatix started to pick his way to the right side of the smoke shrouded cottage. His stomach turned as he felt the structure beneath him sway slightly, as though he were standing on the deck of ship. It was growing worse, and it was all he could do to keep his nerves from driving him to run for safety. They needed to find Cacofonix, and fast!

The sound of coughing erupted right in front of him, and with an adreniline filled rush Fulliautomatix stumbled forward through the gathering haze. He couldn't see a thing. The smoke was even worse on this part of the hut, filling it from floor to cieling with choking, burning, black fog. His feet brushed against something soft and moveable, and the blacksmith quickly fell to his feet, looking worriedly over his friend. The sight before him caused his heart to melt.

The bard lay on his side, arms clutched around his chest tightly as his body shook with each cough and gasp. He seemed pretty out of it, not even fully conscious enough to realize he had been found. His clothing was torn and burned, and a heavy looking beam had fallen on one of his legs. Cacofonix's breathing was rough and ragged, making a sound almost just as terrible as the gasping and coughing. Fullatomatix knelt down beside the bard, trying to sooth his friend with a gentle hand on Cacofonix's shoulder as the blacksmith began calling out to the other two Gauls.

"I found him! He's over here! He's-!"

The blacksmith jumped in surprise, cutting his call short when the bard suddenly latched onto his arm with both hands. His grip was stronger then Fulliautomatix would have thought. Looking into his friend's wide eyes, Fulliautomatix understood for the first time just how frightened the bard truly was. He was terrified. The bard was shaking uncontrollably, body held tight and stiff. The blacksmith realized that Cacofonix would be unable to get up on his own, and that he was going to need help. While allowing Cacofonix to keep his grip on his right arm, Fulliautomatix reached with his left, and, after a few tries, managed the shift the bard's leg out from under the beam. Easing Cacofonix into a sitting position, Fulliautomatix was greeted by a hiss of pain and a small whimper. And the blacksmith couldn't blame the smaller man for a second. On the bard's left side was a dreadful burn spot, not only on the clothing, but on the skin as well, which showed through the rips and tears. It was mostly black, charred and dirty, but a slight red blotch confirmed it was more then a slight scorch. There was blood.

Asterix and Unhygienix appeared beside the blacksmith after what felt like an eternity, but was actually only a few minutes. Taking in Cacofonix's condition at a glance, Asterix moved to lay his hand against the struggling Gaul's back, if only to give the bard reasurance.

"Can he walk?" the warrior asked worriedly, feeling the tree house rock dangerously, along with the heaving breaths of their friend.

"I-I don't think so," Fulliautomatix replied, still greatly unnerved by the bard's desperate grip wringing the life from his hand. It was as though Cacofonix was afraid they'd leave him behind, the way he was hanging on so very tightly. And yet, he could not get a look at the bard's face, where he would truly have been able to read Cacofonix. Their friend's head seemed to heavy for the bard to lift. It was all he could do to keep the air going in and out of his lungs without suffocating him.

"Then we'll have to carry him," Asterix replied, assisting in pulling Cacofonix to his feet. The bard stumbled, and Unhygienix quickly took Asterix's place, nodding for the warrior to lead the way down to safety. The bard was a dead weight as he leaned limply against them, still not seeming to realize they were with him.

_Crack_!

The three rescuers glanced up fearfully as the roof timbers began to give way. The tree was crumbling bit by bit. One wall had fallen, all the way to the ground outside, leaving one section of the cottage completely open.

"This structure isn't going to last much longer!" Unhygienix cried over the noise, shouting to be heard. "We need to leave, now!"

Between the three of them, they managed to steady Cacofonix and half carry-half drag him out the hole onto the open platform. Cool air brushed against their faces a moment before it was smothered by the flames spreading at their backs. Many of the planks that made up the platform were missing, eaten by the consuming fire, and many more were unsafe to step on at this point, black and charred by flame. Treading carefully, Asterix led the way, testing each plank with his foot before standing on it with his full weight, just as he had done on the way in, only now with much more care. Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix followed right behind him, carrying the bard between them, flinching every time Cacofonix gasped or cried out in pain in reaction to their movements. The bard still held firmly onto the blacksmith's arm, frightened and unable to stand on his own. Fulliautomatix did not have the heart to pull his limb away.

Finally, and not without a few close calls, they made it to the winding stairwell that would lead them to the ground below. They could see the crowd of Gaulish men, faces lifted up towards them with looks of worry and fear, as the three, along with their bard, began the slow decent back to earth. A cheer went up from the group below when Cacofonix came into view, each and every one relieved that their friend was alive. Slowly, and rather painfully, they made their way down the spiral staircase, struggling to support the bard and avoid the pieces of burning debris that crumbled and fell all around them. Calls of advice and encouragement made its way up to the rescuers, urging them to hurry and be careful. Suddenly, a loud crackle and a crunch was heard by all, every eye drawn to the might oak before and above them. In terror, everyone looked up as the burning inferno swayed dangerously, as it let out a final warning. It began to fall just as Asterix's feet touched solid earth.

"Back!" yelled the little Gaul, panic evident on his face as he ran toward the Gauls, waving for them to get out of harm's way. "Back, quick! Everybody, run!" All the Gauls took to their heals and ran in all directions as the great tree came crashing down, very narrowly missing Fullautomatox and Unhygienix, who had been slowed down by their burden.

Safe and unharmed, they all stood watching as the fallen oak slowly burned to ashes, wood creeking beneath the intense heat. Fulliautomatix couldn't help but feel a tad bit sad at the tree's fateful end. It had been a rather redeeming quality of the village, a sort of monumental landmark, one might say. Not to mention that Cacofonix loved it dearly. The blacksmith was shaken from his thoughts when the tight grip on his arm suddenly loosened, going slack. The bard in question all at once fell unconscious, slipping downward, Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix barely having time to catch him before he hit the ground.

"Gatafix!" Unhygienix cried, clearly distressed as he fumbled to help lay Cacofonix on the wet, dewy grass. He knelt down at his friend's side, hands hovering over Cacofonix, feeling the need to do something, but not having an idea as to what that might be. The druid was beside them at once, as was the whole village, crowding in, faces filled with worry. The women and children had rejoined the menfolk, having walked closer after the tree had fallen, and they all stood anxiously by as Gatafix examined the village bard carefully, but hurriedly.

"He appears to be badly burned," the druid reported, voice shaking slightly as he carefully brushed his fingers against the black and shredded material on Cacofonix's side. The bard did not react, now completely unconscious of what was happening around him. "But I cannot tell how badly. You two..." Here he pointed to Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix, who practically leaped to attention, willing to do anything to help. "Carry him into my hut. The rest of you, put out that fire before the entire village goes up in flames!"

* * *

The fishmonger and the blacksmith gently laid the limp form of their friend on the druid's cot. They stepped back, but didn't leave; figiting nervously as their druid came forward, sitting himself on the side of the cot next to the bard. Gatifix was slowly and carefully working on taking off Cacofonix's shirt, which would have been hard enough with just an unconscious person. But Cacofonix's exposure to the heat and flames, had gained him several nasty burns. The scorched flesh had fused with the material of his tunic, making getting it off far harder, and a lot more painful. The bard may have been unaware of most everything else, but that terrible pain shot through him, and it was visibly felt. Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix flinched and winced whenever the bard reacted to the druid's touch.

"Will...Will he be alright?" Unhygienix asked, eyeing the terrible burn marks that checkered Cacofonix's clothing with worry. It was very rare that anyone in the village got hurt, especially so severely. Many of them weren't even accustomed to seeing injuries of any sort, above a few small cuts and bruises. The sight of one of their own, so harmed and pained, was enough to make the fiahmonger feel ill.

Gatafix was concentrating very hard as he worked to free the blackened material from the bard's charred skin. It was tricky, and not without pain for the thin musician. As his fingers worked, gently pulling the fabrics fibers away, trying not to take the damadged skin with it, he muttered gently in Druidic. It was an old habit, and though he knew that Cacofonix could not understand him, nor perhaps even hear him, each word was one of care and comfort.

"I don't know," the druid replied sagely, breaking out of his native language quite suddenly to answer his friend. He finally managed to dislodge the final piece of cloth from the burns, feeling the bard shudder beneath his touch. Now they could get a better look at the damage, which, now that it was visible, was even more horrific. The bard was badly bruised, and had a series of small, red cuts on his arms and chest, inflamed against his pale skin. The most prominent wound, however, was a monstrous burn on his side. It looked red and terribly irritated, sore and searing, just in appearance. Pieces of singed and melted fabric still clung to it, despite Gatafix's gentle attempt to extract them. The most disturbing thing, however, was the red blotches of both fresh and dried blood that resided within it. It wasn't much, but it was enough to upset Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix's stomachs, and compel them to feel great pity toward their injured friend.

Rising and crossing the room of his hut, Getafix stepped swiftly over to his potions, which residedin an open-front cabinate made of bark and twig. Gatafix slid his searching finger over the labels, carefully selecting a small jar filled with a clear, greenish liquid. Indicating the cauldron over the cottage fireplace, he hurriedly asked Fulliautomatix to fetch some water and a cloth. The Gaul in question jumped forward to obey.

"Now," Gatafix said, as though he were trying to convince himself to perform the task at hand. A look of very serious concentration plastered his face, making him seem far more calm than he felt. He silently signaled Unhygienix to come closer, laying a hand on the fishmonger's shoulder. He knew the Gauls were afraid. Things like this just didn't happen here. Safety had always been something they had taken for granted. Now that one of them had been hurt, that frail illusion had been shattered. "Unhygienix, I'll need you to help me turn him on his side, so I can easily access his wound. Alright?"

The fishmonger nodded dazedly. He shifted to the cotside, following the druid's lead. He reached forward, hands shaking a little, and carefully began to assist the Getafix in shifting the bard onto his right side, so that the burn on his left was facing up. Cacofonix's breath hitched a bit, but other than that there was no response to their action.

"There," Gatafix breathed with grim satisfaction, just as Fulliautomatix arrived back beside them with a bowl of water and an old, rag cloth. Taking the two items, Getafix dipped the tattered fabric into the warm water, positioning himself back on the cot be Cacofonix's side. As he wrung the water out a little, he paused his hand and gave the two conscious Gauls a slightly reluctant glance. "I'm about to clean and dress the wound. He is unconscious, but I have no doubt that this will hurt him a good deal. If he reacts, I will need you to hold him down." He knew it was a lot to ask. Already, the two villagers looked nearly overwhelmed. But this needed to be done, and Getafix knew he could never do it by himself without help.

Nodding numbly, both Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix shifted, getting on either side of the small bed. They bent over a bit, gently resting their hands against the bard's shoulders and arms, feeling cruel as they did so. It seemed so cruel to hold their friemd down, against the pain that was sure to come, but they trusted Getafix. Completely. If he said this was what needed to be done, then they believed him. They rose their eyes, watching the druid as the soaked cloth was finally ready to be used. Gatafix set his mouth in a thin line of determination, and placed the damp cloth against Cacofonix's badly damaged skin. The reaction was strong and immediate. With a strangled gasp, Cacofonix twisted his body in an attempt to escape Gatafix's reach, arching his back and pulling against his friends holds with surprising strength. Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix gripped the bard, surprised by his sudden violent motions, before they buckled down and held him firmly. The druid continued to cleanse the injury until every trace and possibility of infection was gone. Cacofonix continued to struggle, throughout the whole ordeal, gasping and squirming, though it certainly wasn't his fault. He was only half conscious, and had no idea why he was in such agony. His instinct was to simply fight it.

After what seemed like an eternity, the wound was clean to Gatafix's satisfaction. Cacofonix had stopped squirming as soon as he felt the druid remove the cloth, and simply lay on his side, quivering slightly, and trying to regain his senses more fully. His breath came in quick, short gasps, ragged and strained as his eyes slowly began to focus. It tooka moment or two before he was fully conscious, and his gaze fixed up at Fulliautomatix with a weak, pleading stare, seemingly trying to understand what had happened. It made the blacksmith's heart twist in his chest to see such confusion.

Gatafix carefully leaned into the bard's line of vision, speaking gently as he lay a soothing hand on the bard's bare shoulder, frowning when the contact made Cacofonix shiver. "I'm sorry, Cacofonix, but you have been injured. Your wound needed to be cleaned, and though it was painful, I believe it now to be safe from infection." He gave the bard an apologetic look. "I'm afraid I must ask you to endure a little more so that I can wrap it, as well as check you for other injuries." Cacofonix looked up at him with an unfocused expression, but he nodded weakly, letting the druid know that he had understood.

The druid wrapped the burn as carefully as he could, but even then it took all the bard's remaining strength to keep from pulling away. While still confused and pained, he appeared to understand that they were only trying to help him, and so struggled not to fight against their aid. But it wasn't easy. It felt as though his side was still being engulfed in flame, burning and stinging terribly. When the druid finally finished the wrapping, Cacofonix fell limp against the mattress, thoroughly exhausted, and just barely conscience. He remained that way as Gatafix slowly began to inspect and treat the bard's other various injuries. He washed the smaller cuts and bruises, wiped away the soot, and tried to check the musician's lungs by listening to his breathing, which was still short and raspy. As he worked, he noticed Cacofonix's eyes slowly beginning to close. Before long, the bard was asleep. A feverish sleep, but sleep none the less. Working gently, Getafix continued. When he finished his examination, Gatafix stood and stepped back with a worried sigh.

"He's lucky to be alive," he intoned lowly, a hint of wonder to his voice. It caused the other two Gaul's hearts to falter. "He has multiple bruises and cuts, a broken ankle, and, as far as I can detect, a concussion. He is burned in several places, the worst being the one on his side..." He paused abruptly, hesitating to finish as he struggled with the emotions stirring deep within him. "He...He also breathed in a frighteningly large amount of smoke, which has caused some damage to his lungs...and his throat."

Fulliautomatix felt a terrible dread slip into his mind, prompting him to ask, "W-What does that mean?"

Gatafix sighed again, looking down on the injured form on his cot with sad regret. "It means," he said slowly, "that Cacofonix may have lost his voice...permanently. He may never be able to speak, or sing, again."

* * *

**This chapter has been rewritten as of 2/8/2016.**


	2. Lacking in Potions

Spacious grinned maliciously, teeth bared in the cruel smile as he watched the dying flames from the within the Gaulish village fade and then go out altogether. The inhabitants had surely extinguished the terrible fire, stopping the disaster from spreading. But the damage had already been done. The catapult had worked far more efficiently then the commander could ever have hoped. In his cruel mind he could still see the ball of flame as it flew through the air, crashing against the side of the large tree in the center of the Gaulish village. Oh, how wonderfully it had burst into a billowing inferno! It had lit up the early morning sky, like a beacon of death, smoke trailing into the air in great, black plumes. Spacious had been unable to hear anything at first, nothing but the quiet of the night desturbed by the crackling of flame in the stillness. But that had soon changed. As the Gauls had awoken, fearful screams and shouts had pierced the air, drifting toward the waiting commander.

The other Roman soldiers did not share their leader's enthusiastic joy. They had been told this weapon would be impressive, but it still shocked them as they imagined the horrible nightmare it was causing upon their enemies. Such as attack had syrely done more harm than just to the tree. That village was filled with small, Gaulish huts, some of which held entire families. There was no way that that shot had not hurt someone in the process. Maybe a woman, or a child. It gave their stomachs all a slight turn, and their hearts a faint twist. The Gauls needed to be defeated, that was true. The savages stood between Caesar and his quest for complete rule over all of Brittainy and Armorica. But to inflict such a murderous attack...and in a place with families, without any warning, in the dark of night...It was something that they wouldn't have unleashed on their worst enemy.

But they had, just now, done exactly that.

"W-What do we do now, Sir?" one Roman spoke up nervously, eyes still glued on the smoldering village. His ears were still ringing with the sound of the chaos that had insued within those walls across the field. He was certain it would haunt him for years. He tried to convince himself that they were merely Gauls, and weren't worth the bother, but something deep within him argued that life, no matter whose it was, was important and sacred. Even the lives of the Gauls.

"Now," Spacious grinned, settling back to sit against a tree as if to take a nap. He seemed completely at ease. Not the least bit unnerved by what he had just done. It was as though he saw it as nothing more than dropping a stone on an ant hill, enjoying the sight of the ants as they scurried in terror. "Now, we wait."

The soldier cocked his head, trying to make sense of his leader's behavior. No otjer commander had ever acted this way. Of course, no other commander had performed such a ruthless attack against the Indomibeable Gauls. "Wait? F-For what, Sir?"

Spacious grinned wider, closing his eyes in total bliss. "For them to realize just how bad off they are." He gave a chuckle, and the other soldiers nodded slowly, still eyeing the Gaulish village, filled with a sense of dread and deeply hidden fear. This was beyond anything Caesar had launched against the enemy before. It almost didn't feel Roman at all. It was cruel, and violent, and merciless. And though they had conquered many under Caesar's reign, it had never been done quite with so much...animosity.

* * *

_Everything was fine at first. Soft, simple, and peaceful. Everything was fine. Like the drifting of a creek, aimless and gentle, he was only slow and weightless. Nothing wrong. Everything was fine. Everything was good._

_Darkness._

_But then again, maybe it wasn't. Something important...what was it? __Coming. It was coming to him. Fear. Oh, Toutatis! What was wrong?! Everything was burning...Fire...Smoke...and pain. PAIN. **PAIN. **__It consumed him, choking him. On every side it pressed, hot and stinging. Panic. Fear and panic. He wanted to escape, but he couldn't._

_Trapped._

_ Trapped!_

_He was going to die!_

* * *

"What's wrong with him?!" Fullautomatix cried out desperately, pressing down as firmly as he cold on the wreithing individual beneath his hands. He was struggling to hold a flailing Cacaofonix from falling off the cot to the hard floor, for fear such an event would only make their friend worse. The bard was suprisingly strong, feuled by his seemingly unfounded panic. Not even fully conscious, Cacofonix kicked and pushed like a madman, reeling in his attempts to escape his own, nightmarish subconscious. Fulliautomatix hated having to use force again the bard, but if it meant keeping Cacofonix from harm, then he would give it all he had to ensure it.

The Gaulish bard had been fine for the last hour or so, sleeping soundlessly without noise or movement, other than the rising and falling of his now banadaged chest and the rough wheeze of his stressed lungs. His breathing had been shallow, but steady, at least to a degree that Getafix had been comfortable with. After all that had happened that morning, they were really quite grateful that Cacofonix had gotten away alive at all. That all of them had. The bard had to be exhausted, which was proven by his silence and lack of effort to move at all...Until now. Suddenly that had changed, and with a series of gasps and small, almost whimpering noises, Cacofonix had launched himself into a fit of violent kicking and squirming that had prompted his friends to spring into immediate action.

_This can't be good for him in his condition! _the blacksmith thought frantically, as he wrestled with the much smaller man in an attempt to keep him on the cot. Beside him, Unhygenix managed to take hold of one of the musician's wrists, which had shot out to hit him, but missed. The fishmonger gained a little confidence, holding on tight and rendering at least one of the bard's limbs no longer dangerous. As the two Gauls did their best, Gatafix was hurriedly searching his shelves of potions again, muttering in Druidic, his face worried and eyes slightly panicked.

"He's probably having a nightmare!" the druid mused, out loud so the others could hear him. His eyes wandered hastily over the labeled bottles, jars, and vials, cursing his unorganized inability to put things away properly. "He has a fever, which means he's probably slipped into delirium!" He startled when the sound of something breakable crashed to the floor, having been an object too close to the bard's flailing.

Unhygenix didn't like the sound of that at all. Looking worriedly down at their friend, whose breathing had again grown ragged during the scuffle, he felt his desperation grow to new hieghts. His anxiety needed a focus, and Getafix's words were as good as any. "Which means?!"

"He is in a disturbed state of mind, because of the fever!" Getafix shouted back over the chaos, not even turning to face them, too set on his frantic task. "He doesn't know who we are at the moment, and he's more than likely reliving the traumatic experience he had while in that fire!" Gatafix spread his arms wide, growling in frustration as he glared at the unorganized cabinette with intense disapproval. "I'm low on nearly all my potions! Curse whoever did this!" He meant the ones who had caused the fire, not used up all the potions. That would be silly, since it was only he who used them. Wishing with all his being that there could have been something to have prevented all this panic and pain, Getafix gazed in depression at his lack of resources.

Fullautomatix jumped back, losing some of his hold on Cacofonix as he just barely avoided being kicked sharply in the stomach. _This isn't working!_ "Gatafix!" The druid hurried to his side, voice and body language filled with anxious regret.

"I don't have anything other then a knock out potion, and I can't risk that as of this moment! We have to calm him down!" Sitting on the bed next to the still struggling patient, Getafix saw with fear that Cacofonix was hyperventilating. His movements weaker and less cordinated, the bard was less likely to accidentally kick the druid, but his overbreathing would only cause more problems, if they didn't get him calm and breathing normally. Gatafix took a hold of Cacofonix's hand, which was raised in the air, grasping at nothing. Not knowing what else to do, the druid leaned forward a bit, clearing his through and gaining control of his panic before he began to talk firmly, but softly, to the injured Gaul.

"Cacofonix, listen to me. Listen. It's Gatafix. You're alright. None of what you're feeling is real. It's alright..." His voice was low, soothing in both tone and words. He accompannied the action with a careful rub of the bard's pale hand, in an effort to use physical touch to draw Cacofonix from the frightened world in his mind. Conventional or no, it seemed to be doing the trick. The bard's movements became less frantic, less pained and tormented, though he still twitched and gasped for a little while longer as his lungs started to fall back into a more even rhythm. The druid nodded, in satisfaction, meeting both Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix's gaze with a tired smile. "It's working." He sat a moment longer, speaking to Cacofonix softly and gently pressing the bard's very cold hand. Then, releasing his hold carefully, Getfix stood tohis feet experimentally. Cacofonix shifted restlessly, seeming to have noticed the druid's sudden absence. "Come say something to him. Let him know you're here."

The blacksmith and fishmonger looked startled by his suggestion, having already felt invading enough just by holding their friend down. It was no secret among the villagers that, ever since they were children, Cacofonix had been a source of teasing for many of the older, larger boys, Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix especially. It seemed very unlikely that the bard would gain any comfort from their presence. But the need to do something, _anything_, to help prompted both Gauls to nod and step forward carefully. Getafix moved a few steps to the left, allowing them clear access to the cot-side.

The blacksmith fidgeted with his fingers, feeling that he should be the one to speak first. He wasn't sure why he felt that way, but he somehow sensed that it should be so. Of the two of them, he was the one who had come down hardest on the bard over the years. It had all been in fun, for the most part, and he had always just assumed Cacofonix had understood that. But now, with their friend hurt and unconscious, he wasn't so sure. Clearing his throat, the blacksmith settled down on the side of the cot, the mattress frame groaning under their combined weight. "Uh...Cacofonix? I-it's me, Fullautomatix...Unhygenix is here too." He paused, considering for a moment of copying Getafix's soothing many, though in a less touchy, physical manner. "You're safe. You don't have to be afraid anymore..." His friend looked so pale and weak, Fulliautomatix felt a flare of anger toward whoever or whatever had done this. His mind's eye returned to the burning cottage. To the terrified look on Cacofonix face as he struggled against the panic and fear and terror. It was not all that unlike the expression that was on the bard's face now, even in sleep. It made Fullautomatix feel sick.

Cacofonix, however, calmed considerably at the sound of his voice, much to the blacksmith's surprise. His breathing evened out, and the terrible wheezing was reduced to a small, periodical squeak. It was truly a blessing. Unhygenix shared Fulliautomatix's amazement when his voice calmed the bard further. Gatafix nodded with satisfaction.

"Good, good. Keep talking to him. I'll be right back." Walking away carefully from his place by the cot, Gatafix returned to his shelf of half empty potions. He frowned at the depleted collection, abmonishing himself for not restocking them sooner. More controlled now, he mentally went over the symptoms he had observed in the bard, trying to decide on a course of action to treat them. Cacofonix was very warm to the touch, and it bothered Gatafix deeply. Fevers could be dangerous things, especially among those with weak constitutions, as was certainly true of Cacofonix. The poor man always seemed to be coming down with something during the cooler months. On the other hand, fevers could be quite harmless, but the druid didn't want to take that chance. He didn't even have a simple fever remedy on hand, which made what could have been a quick fix far more complicated to treat. Oh, well, that couldn't be helped, and there was no sense wasting time pouting over it. There were more traditional ways of bringing a fever down that were just as effective, even though they tended to take longer.

Moving swiftly, the druid hurried outside to fetch some cold water from the well at the center of village. Gatafix was relieved to see that Asterix, Obelix and the rest of the villagers had succeeded in putting out all the flames of the terrible fire, including the ones that had spread to a few of the closer huts. All in all, it could have been a lot worse, as far as property damage was concerned. A few scorched roofs wasn't too bad. Of course, Cacofonix's tree was little more than a large, smoldering log at this point. With the dry weather they had been having, the flame had caught to a lot faster than it might have during the rainy season. Yes, they really were truly lucky no one had been killed. Cacofonix especially.

It was turning out to be a fine day, warm and clear. Above the lingering smoke that still rose from the ashes, the morning sun began to rise into the otherwise crystal, blue sky. Birds sang in the forest, and gulls by the shore gave their repeated calls. The sound of the serf against the rocks was just barely audible, creating a soft ebb and tide of sound in the background. In other words, it was a perfectly normal, beautiful spring day. Except, it wasn't normal. A feeling of sickening fear hung over the village, as though everyone within it were holding their breath. Afraid of what might come next.

Getting the water quickly, the druid made his way back to his hut, entering with a careful stride, so as not to desturb those within it. The moment he stepped indoors he noticed the relief on Fullautomatix and Unhygenix's faces, as they smiled back at him from the bard's bedside. Getafix's eyes shifted to their injured friend to find the fellow was no longer struggling at all, and was, in fact, sleeping peacefully once more.

"He dropped of just a moment ago," Unhygenix whispered, a hint of gratefulness in both his expression and tone. He looked incredibly tired, but no more then any of the other Gauls did at the moment. They were not accustomed to such a wake up call, and that, mixed with the stress and fear of the morning, was really starting to take a toll on their overall appearance. Dark circles rested beneath their eyes, and their posture, sitting even as they were, was slouched and limp. "What's that for?" the fishmonger asked gently, pointing to the wooden pail of water swinging slightly from Gatafix's hand.

"I need to bring down his fever, so we don't have another example of what we just experienced. Once we do that, he should rest without any more fear." He set the bucket down and put a cool, wrickled hand to the bard's bruised forehead. "He's still feverish. Pretty high too, by the feel of it."

Fulliautomatix, who had risen once more to give the druid the room he might require, frowned worriedly. "Is that...you know..." He didn't want to say what he was thinking, for fear of the answer, but Gatafix understood, and was a little less subtle.

"Fatal?...Could be, if it got really bad. But I don't think that's the case here." His face grew in determination. "Not if I have anything to do about it, anyway." Taking a cloth, a clean one, not the bloodied rag from before, Getafix soaked it in the bucket of cold water, wrung it out, folded it, and then gently placed it against Cacofonix's flushed forehead. The bard inhaled sharply at the sudden cold, but he settled quickly, remaining asleep. The two conscious Gauls and the druid remained silent for a long while, just glad for the quiet that proved everything was alright, at least for the moment. Then, hessetantly, Unhygenix spoke up softly, as if afraid to talk at all. Afraid of breaking the spell of calm and peace.

"Do...Do you really think he's lost his...his voice, Gatafix?"

It was the first time any of them had mentioned the bard's condition in that area since Getafix had first told them. They had skirted around the issue, finding it to tragic to even consider. But there, in the silence, the still slightly uneven pattern of Cacofonix's breathing brought the problem back to light. The druid's face filled with sadness and regret, wishing for all the world that he could allay their fears, but he could not. "I am afraid that it is a very large possability. We will only know for sure when he awakens. If he can speak, then my suspisions would have been groundless, and all will be well."

"And if he can't?" Unhygienix pushed anxiously.

Getafix signed. "If he can't...There is really nothing I can do."

Fulliautomatix shook his head in silent denile, glaring down at the dirt packed floor at his feet. He wanted to be mad. He wanted to smash something. Make someone pay for what they had done. But, at the same time, he felt so shocked and weak from the morning's events, he could barely continue being angry, too overcome with concern. "Isn't there...Isn't there something you can do?" Fullautomatix whispered. "A spell, maybe? Or a powder or potion?"

"I'm afraid not," the druid winced, echoes of his uselessness ringing out in his mind. What kind of druid was he, if he couldn't even help his friends? It made him angry, most of all at himself. "I cannot do a thing without the proper potions. And, even then, there are some injuries that I just cannot heal. I could use them to ease his pain; quicken his healing. But that is all. Only time will tell what damage has been truly done."

"And we can't go...get more?" Unhygienix asked timidly. "You're all out of potions you say. Why don't we just go out there and-"

Gatafix gave the fishmonger a troubled look, cutting him off. "Whatever did this to Cacofonix is dangerous. It would be unwise to leave the village before we know what we're up against. I will not have any more of you hurt."

Fulliautomatix frowned. "But Cacofonix-"

"Will be fine," the druid interupted gently, "For now. I will do what I can." He carefully removed the wet cloth from Cacofonix's forehead, resubmerging it in the cool water before wringing it out and placing it back, fresh and cool against the bard's burning fever. Fullautomatix and Unhygenix hung there heads sadly, feeling defeated and helpless. Getafix watched their tired, worried expressions, shifting his own concern to them now. They had both been through a lot that morning. The Gauls, maybe excluding Asterix, were not used to the violence of the world outside the safety of their village. Sometimes Getafix frowned upon it, believing that their ignorance might give them more confidence than was good for them. This incident proved that. When met with disaster, they had handled it with all the courage and strength they could muster. But it had left them shocked, frightened, and shaky. And that was what Getafix was seeing in Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix right now.

Rising from the cot, the druid moved to lay a hand on both their shoulders, regaining their exhausted attentions. "Go," Gatafix urged kindly, reading their hidden wish to leave. "I'll stay with Cacofonix. Your families are probably worried about you, as I can see you are worried about them." He smiled at their suprise, knowing he had made the right decision. As much as the two Gauls didn't want to admit it, Gatafix was perfectly right. While their main concern the last few hours had been Cacofonix, thoughts of their families had been simmering in the backs of their minds, making their anxiety greater without them even realizing it. And so, after making sure that they truly weren't needed and that Getafix would be alright until they came back, the two left to go find their wives and children, a great sense of relief filling them as they finally were free to do so.

Gatafix remained at the wounded bard's bedside, watching until Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix were gone from his sight. He carefully moved back and sat on the cot-side again, refreshing the cloth with cold water once more before placing it back on his friend's forehead. Each time he did so he was unnerved by how quickly the cool, wet cloth was warmed by the bard's temperature. He shook his head sadly, unable to get the image out of his mind of the bard, long ago, as a little, blond-haired boy. Getafix had helped raise him, as had all the villagers. Cacofonix, unlike any of the others, had no family to speak of. His mother had died when he was little more than two years of age, and his father had abandoned him shortly after. Despite this, the bard had grown to be just as determined and strong-willed as his fellow Gauls, and that was something that Getafix was truly grateful for. Getafix, as it was with all the younger generation of the village, from Vitalstitistix all the way down to Asterix and Obelix, felt like a second father to them all. He cared for them, had seen them grow from squabbling children to brave and steadfast adults. To see any of them, as he saw Cacofonix now, was heartbreaking. Getafix tried not to let his emotions get the best of him as he stared down at their injured friend.

"Who could have done this?"

* * *

**I'm back! Yeah, I know it's been a while. Sorry. I have a bad habit of writing several stories at once (or at least starting them), and I had to put at least one of them on the back burner for a while. Unfortunately, this one was the unlucky candidate. I plan to finish this one now, so for anyone who was waiting, I'm sorry for the delay. :) And thank you for your patience!**

**This chapter has been REWRITTEN as of 2/9/2016!**


	3. The Enemy

Fulliautomatix could feel himself trembling. He could feel the tremor that seemed to bubble up from inside of him, shaking him from his core outward. It was a feeling he wasn't used to, and one he had never really given much thought to in years. Not since he was a child. Children are susceptable to such things, and, in a sense, so were most adults. But he was a Gaul. Not only that, he was a Gaul of the Indomidable village. There had never really been much of a reason for fear before, and now that there was, he found himself feeling rather unprepared to face it. It made him feel sick. He wasn't sure why, exactly. It was a mix of things. The fire had been a shock, and Cacofonix's condition had been an even greater one. Anger intertwined with fear. Fear for his family, fear for the village, and fear for the injured bard. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and he decided very quickly that he disliked it strongly. It felt wrong. They were the ones that usually had their enemies shaking in their boots. To have the tables turned was...unsettling. The blacksmith knew that Unhygienix felt the same way.

The two Gauls left Gatafix's hut reluctantly, though they were anxious to check on their families. They had been so wrapped up in the chaos around them that their other concerns had been forced to the back of their minds. But now, with things settling down to a more bearable degree, at least somewhat, their wives and children became their only thought. They hurried alone the winding path that led from Getafix's hut to the village center, images of their loved ones forefrontly in their minds. Once they came into sight of the other Gauls, they quickened their pace, their need for reassurance growing. The villagers noticed their approach and quickly called out. The blacksmith and the fishmonger were practically swarmed as the Gauls hurried to crowd around them, asking questions and shouting concerns. Many asked if Cacofonix was alright, while others asked whether Getafix was preparing a batch of his magic potion so that they could go out and take care of the 'problem' at once. Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix pushed their way through to their families, caring for nothing else until they were within reach. Then, and only then, while exchanging uneasy glances, they turned their attention to the sea of worried faces. So many unanswered questions. Questions with answers they just didn't have. Only they knew how desperate the situation was, and it was a hopelessness they were reluctant to share. With no potion, things were not looking good, and then there was Cacofonix and his condition...

"Cacofonix is...hurt pretty badly," Fulliautomatix said sadly, hugging his wife with one arm while unconsciously finding his two children with the other. His son and daughter looked up at him fearfully, hearing that their teacher was so bad off. While, in any other circumstance, the children might have been glad for the time off from school, in this situation this was not the case. Cacofonix, as a bard, was qualified to teach, and had done so for quite some time. The children were really quite fond of him, as long as he never sang them their lessons.

At the news of the bard's condition, the villagers hung their heads, but the blacksmith knew that their grief would be far greater if they only knew the full extent of the Cacofonix's injuries. If they had seen for themselves what he and Unhygienix had seen. Watched as the true agony of their friend had been so visible. But it was not his place, nor the fishmonger's, to be the carrier of that news. Nor was it their place to tell the town of just how dire their situation really was. Not only did Getafix not have the resources for his medical practices, but he did not have the ingredients for the Magic Potion, and that went without saying. They could tell. And they knew that the druid was due for ingredients, even though he had not said so. But for now, they knew they must keep silent about it, as hard as that might be. The villagers would all know soon enough. Getafix would tell them when and if the need arose. Which Fulliautomatix prayed it wouldn't.

Fulliautomatix's daughter tugged at his apron with her small hand, gazing up at him with the smallest of tears in her eyes. It had been a frightening morning for all of the children, and that fear had not yet left them. Nor the adults. "Will he get better, Daddy?" she asked softly, her mind still on Cacofonix.

_Oh Toutatis, he hoped so._ "I...I'm not sure, honey." He watched her shoulders droop, the child taking his answer as a bad indication of the situation's true nature. He touched a hand to her chin, gently lifting her head and giving her a tired, but loving smile. "But we can't give up on him, okay?" She nodded, falling forward to hug him around the legs.

Asterix, who had been listening to the blacksmith's words from the back of the worried villagers, frowned as his face became even graver then it already was. Of all the other Gauls, Asterix was the most accustomed to tragedy. As the village warrior, he had witnessed and suffered the consequences of many battles, attacks, and casualties, all of which he had, on most occasions, escaped without a scratch, thanks to the Magic Potion. Though these kinds of things rarely took place in the safety of their home, it was still second nature for him to notice the stressed hesitation in Fulliautomatix's voice. Asterix knew there was more. He knew something wasn't right. But he also knew to keep silent, at least until the women and children were out of earshot. Then he could ask the blacksmith more questions, or Unhygienix. Or even go and visit Getafix himself.

Vitalstatistix opened his mouth to speak from on top of his shield, feeling that, as Chieftain, he needed to console those under his care. But just as he was about to do so another voice, loud and unmistakably non-Gaulish, broke the uneasy silence that had suddenly reigned over them all.

"Ho, there! Gauls! Show yourselves and surrender to the might of glorious Caesar!"

The villagers turned as one to face the towering wall that surrounded their home, from which behind the voice called. They blinked in confusion, before their eyes widened in sudden realization. There was no mistaking that foreign lilt, for anything other than what it was.

_Romans_.

Fulliautomatix felt his anger grow, now that it had a concrete focus that he could unleash it upon. Up until that moment, he had been filled with so many emotions, all with nothing to direct them at, but now, with a name to the terror that had hurt their friend and attacked their village, Fulliautomatix was nearly steaming with rage. The Romans had done this. Had injured their friend and scarred their village. _Those rotten, filthy, no good-_

Hurrying, as a colorful stampede, the Gauls raced to the wall parapets to look out over the gates, lining the walls with their curious, and angered faces. At least, the menfolk did. The women and children remained below, at the mens' request, looking up at their husbands and listening nervously, having to guess by hearing what was transpiring beyond their sight. The male populace of the village looked over the side of their only barrier that protected them from the outside world with a sense of caution and vigorous indignation. In all honesty, they might have expected a few archers. A battered legion at best. But, instead, they were greeted by the sight of a large regiment of well armored Roman soldiers, each with a spear in his hand and a sword at his side. The troops stood on the fresh, green grass, looking up at them, with a mix of fear and false ferocity. Unhygienix almost smirked, and might have, if not for what had happened that morning. That took all the humor out of the situation.

One Roman, however, dressed far more elegantly then any of the others, strutted to the front of the lines, unafraid and smiling in a belittling manner. His fat face was beaming with a cruel grin, which showed his large, unflattering mouth full of teeth. He gazed up at them, but, somehow, it felt as though he were looking down at them in contempt. As if their lives were no more significant then a colony of ants. Dirt. Scum. Worthless and unimportant. "Good morning," was his greeting, grinning calmly in a way that made every stomach on the parapet turn with a sickening flutter. The Roman only smiled broader. "I trust our little present didn't wake you this morning?" He glance back at some of his men who, more out of respect than an actual joke, snickered weakly. From the Gaulish walltop there was nothing but silence. Spacious's grin did not falter by their lack of response. In fact, he seemed empowered by it. "Oh, dear," he cooed, voice filled with mock regret. "I _am _sorry. I _do_ hope no one was hurt."

That was all Fulliautomatix could take. With a growl of rage he leaped forward to the front of the crowded parapet, glaring down at the Roman commander with unconcieled hatred. "Why you-!" He fairly attempted to jump the side of the wall so he could get his hands around that-that maniacs neck! It took both Asterix and Unhygienix to hold him back, both knowing that, should Fulliautomatix try, he might be hurt, or even killed. The blacksmith tried to gather himself, but he could see the anger in Asterix's eyes, as well as the fishmonger's, and he knew they felt as he did, and that was a small comfort. He cast his gaze about him, taking in the wrath on all their faces, finally resting his eyes on Vitalstitistix, who made his way to the front with solumn anger.

The chief looked very shaken, whether from rage or fear no one could tell, though it was probably both. He was not atop his shield, a rather unusual occurrence for him, having decided to stay as close to his fellow villagers as possible. Be one of them, rather than above them. An occurrence that showed just how much everyone had been disturbed by this whole mess. Nothing this morning had been, nor would be, normal. Not in the least.

Vitalstitistix looked down on Spacious with as much contempt as he could muster. Images of all he had seen that morning, the fear, the destruction, the hurt, fed his dislike of this Roman, and gave him the courage to stand firm against such a threat. "What is it you want, _Roman_?" The last word was spoken with barely contained rage, another abnormality in the Gualish leader.

Spacious rolled his eyes, finding Vitalstitistix's show of force little more than pitiful. He had researched these primitive people well, and he was confident that he could handle them without so much as batting an eye. Spreading his arms wide, he gestured to his regiment behind him with a cool, smooth movement. "Isn't it obvious, _Gaul? _We have come to accept your surrender."

"We'll never surrender to you OR your wimpy, dress wear'n emperor!" The unmistakable shout came from Geriatrix, the eldest by far in the village, but also the most fiesty. He leaned out over the wall, waving his cane in one hand while he shook his balled fist at the Roman with the other, his body in danger of falling over the other side to the ground below. It took several Gauls to keep him from tumbling over, even more than it had taken to stop Fulliautomatix.

Spacious didn't even grace the old Gaul with a glance. It was as if the insult, which had the other Romans knocking their knees, had gone right over his head, untouching to him despite its focus on the 'great and mighty Caesar'. Instead of rising to the bait, his smile only deepened. "Oh?" he asked innocently. "Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so!" the elderly Gaul fumed, preparing to teach this pompous commander a painful lesson by the end of his cane. The Romans had done things before that had gotten on his nerves, but this was crossing the line. Cacofonix was hurt, and that was something the Romans had never dared to do before. And they were going to be sorry, if Geriatrix had anything to do about it. Again the others stopped the old Gaul from leaping down below, and this time Fulliautomatix helped pull him back.

"Easy there, you old relic," the blacksmith whispered pleadingly, the habit of name calling slipping in through his anxiety. "You'll only get yourself killed!" Geriatrix gave him a withering glance before settling back into place with the others. Reluctant, but complient. For now.

Vitalstitistix cleared his throat, which had gone suddenly very dry. This Roman was too cocky. Too sure of himself. He knew he had them...As though they were already in his grasp, bond and tied to be presented before Caesar. A terrible thought. An uncomfortable feeling had started to knot itself in the chieftain's gut. Dread. A deep dread that he had never experianced before, and had never though he would. Usually, the Romans didn't pose any sort of threat at all. "We have no intention of surrendering, Roman. So I suggest you take your regiment, as well as your cruel 'presents' with you."

Spacious chortled loudly, his enormous girth jiggling with each harsh burst. He wiped a tear from his eye, as though his amusement was more than he could take. "Such brave threats from such poor and weak folk..."

"Weak?!" Vitalstitistix shouted indignantly, with no small hint of insult. "Are you aware, _Sir_, that we Gauls are known for our tremendous strength?"

Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix visibly flinched at their chieftain's words. The druid's laments of having no potion ringing in their ears, they knew only too well what that would mean for the village. As of the moment, they were without that amazing, tremendous strength upon which they relied so much.

"Ah, and are _you_ aware, Gaul," the commander replied hautingly, "that you lack a certain magic potion?" He watched with satisfaction as he saw the Gauls exchange frightened and confused glances. Two in particular going deathly pale. "I see you have not yet been told." He let out another evil cackle. "Go ahead, find your druid! You will only come to realize that you are without your precious liquid. You are helpless against us! Any opposition you offer...will fail."

Distressed, Asterix finally stepped forward, his stature barely allowing him the ability to see over the parapet wall. He had had enough, since that very morning he had had enough. "Roman!" he called down with an authority that was far larger than his size. "Even if what you say is truth, you have not taken into account two important facts!" He detached the small, green circular canteen from his belt, holding it high so that not only the Romans could see it, but his fellow Gauls as well. "One, _I_ still have magic potion. And two, Obelix here doesn't need potion to give him the strength to send you all back to Caesar with lumps and bruises!"

The Roman soldiers standing behind Spacious gulped visibly, the armor rattling in their quaking fear. One look at Obelix was all they needed to know Asterix wasn't bluffing. Many of them had felt the power behind the large Gaul's punch, and were very reluctant of experiencing it again. But their leader looked unconcerned.

"Ah, yes," Spacious grinned, eyeing the small man with maliced interest. It was an odd look, as though he truly were pleased to view the Gaul, merely for the reason of disliking him. "Asterix, the hero of the Gaulish village! I've heard so much about _you_. What a pleasure to finally meet you in person!"

"The _pleasure_," the little warrior replied through clenched teeth, "is all yours."

"Oh, but you see," the commander sniffed, as though bored with it all. "You underestimate me. I _have_ taken you and your fat friend into _great_ consideration. I figured that you would stand in the way of the mighty Caesar's progress. So, I took a slight...precaution."

Asterix felt a sense of cold unease settle within him, even as he asked, "Precaution?"

Spacious eyed him with amusement. "Indeed."

Vitalstitistix felt the dread within him grow as well. After years of leading an entire village, his intuitive skills were sharp, and well-tuned to certain situations. Like when someone was a danger. It wasn't as strong as Asterix's sixth sense, but it served him well when push came to shove. "What...what do you mean?"

"I mean, Gaul," Spacious grinned wickedly, gesturing to his right as two soldiers marched forward, a young woman the Gauls all recognized at once. Their hearts fluttered in fear, eyes widening at the sight before them. "A pretty little precaution named...Panacea."

* * *

**Once again I apologize for how long it's been since I last posted. College (sigh).**

**This chapter has been rewritten as of 2/15/2016.**


	4. Cards on the Table

Gatafix had noticed how quiet it had gotten. All the customary sounds of village life; talking, working, arguing; they were absent from the morning. It was as odd a feeling as if all the birds and all the insects of the world suddenly fell silent. It left only an empty perception. A shadow of how things _should _be. Gatafix didn't like it...he didn't like it all. It made him want to rush outside and shout at the top of his lungs so that the dreadful quiet would be shattered. He wanted to run out there and start one of those village brawls he so disapproved of. Anything would be better then this.

But he couldn't. He had to stay with Cacafonix. And it wouldn't have done any good anyway. A glance out the window and the druid could just make out the villager's standing lined up on the parapet of the village gates. He was curious as to what they could be watching so intently.

Gatafix sighed. He would know soon enough. He sat back in a chair he had set up beside his bed, close to his injured friend.

The light sound of movement caused the white bearded man to turn back to his patient. Cacafonix was shifting, his mind trying to make its way back to consciousness. He slightly tossed his head from side to side weakly. Gatafix gently laid a hand on the bard's arm, careful not to touch any of the angry-looking burns. A moment later, Cacafonix's eyes fluttered open.

He just sort of stared into space at first; his expression blank for the most part, with just a hint of confusion. The eyes themselves were unfocused, roaming the ceiling uncertainly.

"Cacafonix..." The druid's voice was softer then he had intended, and the bard didn't hear it. He tried again, louder, but still gentle. "Cacafonix?"

The thin musician's gaze turned to him at once, struggling to focus on his face. His expression became even more confused, greatly worrying Gatafix.

"Cacafonix, it's me...Gatafix."

Much to the druid's relief, the bard's confusion quickly became a look of recognition. He gave a weak smile, trying to sit up. The smile faded at once as the many cuts, bruises, burns and other injuries practically screamed in protest. The pain alone was nearly enough to render him unconscious once again. He fell limply back onto the mattress, breathing heavily. That's when he noticed how much his throat hurt.

"Don't do that, Cacafonix!" Gatafix said in alarm. He hadn't expected his patient to try to move. "You are very hurt, you must stay still!" His voice softened as the obviously sharp discomfort subsided in the musician's face. "Now, you are in pain?" A silly question, but he asked nonetheless.

Cacafonix nodded miserably. He didn't even try to speak, his throat was too sore. It was painful enough just moving his head.

The druid shook his own sadly. "That is not very surprising. You...you were badly burned. And your right ankle is broken." He stopped there. Causing undo stress in his patient would do little for the bard's health. He decided not to tell him about the other...possible injuries.

Cacafonix was slowly beginning to remember what had happened. He could feel the throb in his leg, though he hadn't noticed it until Gatafix had mentioned it. He could also feel the burning sensation all over his body, due to the places where the fire had managed to get him. _The fire! The flying ball of flame coming...coming at him! Can't get away! Pain! Fire!...Help..._

"Cacafonix?...Cacafonix!" The voice cut into his thoughts. His eyes focused back on Gatafix, who had somehow shifted from his chair to being seated on the bed, griping the bard's wrists gently, but firmly. The bard blinked a few times, before settling back into the cot, weak and terribly tired.

Gatafix slowly released his hold, but remained on the bed. He was really quite alarmed. One minute Cacafonix had been perfectly fine, the next he had become withdrawn into his own world. The bard had turned terribly pale and had started shaking. It had taken a lot to snap him out of it, which frightened Gatafix far more then he would ever have admitted to anyone. It also bothered him that the bard had not yet spoken. Even in the throws of whatever invisible terror he had just experienced, Cacafonix had remained absolutely...silent. Just like the village outside.

Gatafix was relieved, however, that, if Cacafonix had indeed lost his voice, the bard was still blissfully unaware for the moment. His throat probably hurt, which meant he would refrain from even trying, at least until the pain went down. The druid sighed as he watched Cacafonix's eyes slowly closed in sleep once more, thoroughly exhausted from his short time conscious. Gatafix only hoped he was wrong; that Cacafonix still had his voice.

...,...,,.,..,.,.,,.,.,..,,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,,,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,

A shocked silence enveloped those on the parapet. Spacious grinned as he saw the total disbelief and fear flit across the face of every Gaul.

Suddenly, Soporifix, Panacea's father, called out. His voice was mostly filled with anger, but the slightest hint of panic was audible. "Y-you're lying! My-my daughter lives in Condatum!"

"Indeed," the Roman smirked. He motioned toward the woods behind him. "Bring forth the prisoner!"

The Gauls felt their hearts sink as a soldier emerged from the forest leading a very familiar figure.

"Panacea!"

"Father!"

The beautiful woman looked up at her parent's frantic cry. Her eyes met his and for a moment it was as if only they existed. Panacea wanted nothing more then to fling herself into her father's arms, as Soporifix wanted nothing more than to hold her.

Panacea struggled to get away from her captor, but her hands were tied firmly behind her, and the guard held her arm tightly, making any chance of escape impossible. The soldier brought her to stand beside the Roman Commander.

"As you can see," Spacious gestured, "She is _not _in Condatum." He cupped her chin in his hand, giving her a sickening smile.

"Leave her alone!" Everyone jumped as Obelix's booming voice broke out into the morning air. Even the Roman regiment stepped back, startled.

Obelix felt positively sick. When the Roman had mentioned Panacea he had turned pale. When she had been brought into sight, he had become as white as a sheet. Everyone knew that Obelix had once had feelings for Soporifix's daughter. When Panacea had gone and married Tragicomix, Obelix had been very disappointed, though happy for the new couple. His love for her had not died, however. It had simply changed. He loved her now as though she were a sister. A little sister. One he would defend with his life. "Leave Panacea alone!"

Spacious removed his hand and glared up at the Gauls. All humor had left his voice. "You will surrender to us within a week! If you do not..." He turned to Panacea with an evil grin, "She will die."

A collective gasp went up from both the Gauls and the Roman soldiers.

"If you try to save her, she will _die._ If you try to escape, she will _die_. If you try to get help..._She. Will. Die_." The commander smiled. "One week."

Waving to his men, Spacious retreated into the depths of the forest. Panacea sent her friends one final frightened glance before she too disappeared into the woods.

...,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,,

The women and children watched as the dazed men made it back down from the parapet. They had caught snippets of conversation from above and beyond the wall, but nothing that they could piece together.

Impedimenta took Vitalstitistix's hand in her own, sensing that something was terribly wrong.

The men, shaken and terribly worried, recounted what had taken place. The women's eyes widened and they lay their hands over their mouths in horror. The children, forgotten for the moment, heard their desperate situation and clung fearfully to their parents' legs.

Obelix and Asterix stood to the side, watching; trying to process everything that had happened since they had first awoken. It was like a nightmare...but they couldn't wake up. Because they were not asleep.

"A-Asterix?" Obelix whispered, his normally cheerful and kind face twisted into a look of painful desperation. "Wh-what are we-" He broke off, unable to finish.

Asterix shook his head, his eyes falling on the still smoldering ruins of Cacafonix's tree. "I don't know, Obelix...I-I really don't know..."

**,.,.,.,.,.,..,,..,.,,.,.,.,.,.,..,..,.,,.,..,.,,.,..,.,,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,..,.,.,,..,.,,..,..,,.,.,.,.,..,.,..,.,.,.,.**

**Here we go! Another chapter, while I have the time to write! I don't have as much homework this weekend, and I intend to make full use of that spare time!**


	5. A Swapping of Events

"What are we going to _do_!" Impedimenta wailed. She and the other women of the village stood huddled with their families, absolutely terrified. Many of them were still in shock, unable to fully comprehend how dire their situation truly was.

Vitalstitistix looked about him, taking in the frightened villagers. He felt small; weak. He hated not being able to do anything. Hated being in charge but unable to put his leadership to good use. His eyes fell on Asterix. The small warrior seemed greatly distressed, but the chief could see the wheels in the Gaul's head already turning; trying to come up with a way to help. Vitalstitistix knew they needed to do _something_.

"Asterix," he said, attempting to hide the fear in his voice and not quite succeeding. "Round up the others for a meeting. We'll gather in my hut. This has got to be figured out..."

"Yes, Chief." The little Gaul started milling about, approaching certain citizens of the village who he knew Vitalstitistix would want at the council. He informed Geriatrix of the meeting, as well as Unhygenix and Fullautomatix, once they could leave their families. Impedimenta was already aware of her husband's request and, whether Vitalstitistix wanted her there or not, she was going to attend. That left only Gatafix and Cacafonix. Of course, the bard wouldn't be able to participate, going by what the blacksmith had said.

Asterix suddenly realized he had not yet been able to check on the village minstral. He had been too busy conducting repairs and calming the others. Then there had been their confrontation with the Romans...

"Come on, Obelix," Asterix said, with more cheerfulness than he felt. "We must check on Cacafonix and tell Gatafix about the meeting."

Obelix muttered something too low for him to hear. In fact, Asterix took note that his large friend had not spoken for a good while.

"Obelix..." He paused, uncertain. "It's...it's going to be alright." He didn't want his friend to worry. Obelix wasn't meant to worry. He was like a child in that way. Life was a pleasant world of colors, smells and food. Asterix couldn't bare to see his friend like this; brow creased in a serious frown. He needed Obelix to be himself. He needed Obelix to be that pillar of positive energy. He needed Obelix to believe everything would work out fine in the end. _I just wish I could believe it._

Obelix lifted his gaze from the ground to look into his small friend's eyes. Asterix was looking up at him with concern. He wasn't quite sure why. He was strong. He was biggest (though not fat!). In all the troubles that were plaguing the village, Obelix couldn't find it in his nature to worry about his own safely.

In truth, he was more worried about Asterix. The little Gaul was tough. He was quick. He was smart. But Asterix wasn't strong. Oh, he was when they had potion, but Obelix had seen his friend without the saving strength of the magic fluid. Without it, Asterix was normal. He was less than normal. Of all the other Gauls, Asterix was the smallest. Without the potion, he'd be the weakest.

Then there was the others to consider. They weren't warriors. Sure, they had beaten the Romans around a bit over the years, but that, again, had been the potions doing. Without it...they didn't stand a chance. And what were they going to do about poor Panacea...?

"Obelix? You alright?"

Shaking the troubling thoughts from his head, Obelix looked back down at his friend. He gave a nod, causing Asterix to sigh. "Let's go, Obelix."

...

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Asterix gave the door of Gatafix's hut a nervous rap. He stood back as he and Obelix waited to be answered. It was very quiet inside. A moment or so later they heard the soft, shuffling step of the village druid approaching the door.

_Kreeeee._ The wooden frame opened with a noisy protest, breaking into the silence. It seemed so loud. It almost made Obelix want to place a finger to his lips and shush the door angrily. He noticed Asterix flinch at the grating sound of rusty hinges.

Gatafix peeked out and, seeing who it was, opened the door wide enough to let them both through. He had to swing the door open all the way to allow Obelix to pass.

"Oh, Asterix and Obelix," the druid sighed, almost as if he were relieved to see them. "Come in."

"Thank you." The two Gauls stepped through the threshold into the little, straw roofed cottage.

The first thing Asterix noticed was how dimly lit the room was. Most of the windows had been blocked with blankets, and there were no lamps burning. The only source of light was the warm glow of the embers in the fireplace. For a moment, it was hard to see much more than that. He'd have to wait for his eyes to adjust.

"I didn't want Cacafonix to be disturbed by the bright sunshine outdoors," Gatafix said, taking note of the Gaul's questioning expression. "He's asleep, and it was streaming through the window."

"How is he?"

Gatafix sighed again, spreading his arms wide. "I only wish I knew. He's stable at the moment and out of immediate lungs still sound dreadful, but they have cleared up a little." He motioned for them to follow him to the corner where Cacafonix was sleeping.

Asterix's heart sunk at the sight. He hadn't really been able to see the extent of the damage his friend had received that morning when they had rescued him. It had been too dark. Now, he could see the painful looking burns, or, at least, the thick wrappings that covered them. Wounds that required such careful and extensive binding could not be insignificant.

The bard was sound asleep, but his face was still screwed up in pain, causing Obelix to wonder if that expression would ever go away. "He's...he's so still."

Gatafix nodded in agreement. "That he is. Though this is better than earlier. He was kicking and flailing all over the place. Took three of us to hold him down and calm him."

"That's when Unhygenix and Fullautomatix were helping you?" Asterix inquired, eyes still locked on Cacafonix.

Gatafix nodded once more. "Yes."

"Has he woken up at all since then?"

"Yes, a little while ago. He was conscious for about fifteen minutes. He seemed all right...for the most part."

"For the _most part_?" Asterix caught the muttered words. "What do you mean?"

"He.." The druid struggled for the right word. "He became...unalert."

"Unalert?"

"Yes. He just kind of drifted into his own mind. At least, I assume that is what happened. He became pale and frightened. But he snapped out of it when I called his name, though it did take more than one try."

Asterix shook his head sadly. _Can things possibly get any worse._

"What's happening out there?" Gatafix asked, tilting his head toward the door. "I saw you all looking over the wall."

_Better tell him._ "Our attackers gave us a call," Asterix replied. He saw Obelix stiffen slightly by his side. The few moments that had distracted them from the troubles outside dissipated at once.

Gatafix seemed both concerned and intrigued. "Who were they?"

"Romans," Obelix growled lowly, offering no explanation for his angry attitude. The druid took in his animosity with a look of surprise. Obelix rarely grew enraged, but his expression was unmistakable.

"I see," Gatafix replied, his own temper rising. "And what did they say?"

Asterix fidgeted with the gourd secured to his belt. "They wanted us to surrender."

"Those fiends!" The druid hissed. "They think they have a right to things that don't belong to them! That they can control our lives! Destroy our homes!" Cacafonix shifted in his sleep with a moan, reminding Gatafix to keep his voice down. "...Hurt our friends," he ended sadly.

"Gatafix," Asterix whispered, dread once again filling his soul. "It gets worse."

The druid's eyes snapped to him with an intensity that frightened him. "What do you mean?"

"They...they..."

"They've got Panacea, Gatafix," Obelix said, the pain evident in his low voice. "If we don't surrender..." His voice cracked slightly. "...they'll...they'll kill her."

"By Toutatis..." The druid sunk down into his chair weakly. This day was becoming more complicated and more terrible with each hour.

"That's why we came," Asterix added quickly, remembering their main reason for visiting...well, one reason. "Vitalstitistix wants to have a gathering to talk about what to do." He gave Gatafix an apologetic look. "I'm afraid we will need you there, Gatafix."

"And I'm afraid that I will not be unable to attend."

"But Gatafix-"

"I cannot leave Cacafonix here alone."

_True._ Asterix hadn't thought of that. No one had. The injured bard would need Gatafix. No one else could care for him properly.

The smallest Gaul mulled the problem around in his mind for a moment, then an idea struck him. "Why don't we have the meeting here?" He saw the hesitation in the druid's eyes. "It's the only way, Gatafix. We need you. This way you can stay with Cacafonix and take part in the meeting."

After a few seconds, the druid nodded his consent. "As long as Vitalstitistix doesn't mind, I find no reason not to proceed in that manner."

"Good," Asterix said hurriedly, already pulling Obelix toward the door. "We'll go get the others."

Gatafix watched them leave, then his face took on a thoughtful expression. His mind shifted back to their situation. The Romans. Panacea. Cacafonix. Things were looking pretty bad...and it wasn't getting any better.

**...**

**There we go, another chapter! Please don't forget to review, it is very helpful to me. :)**


	6. A Troubling Situation

It wasn't hard to get the others to agree to hold the meeting in Gatafix's hut. Especially when Asterix told them the druid's reason for having to remain there. Their hearts softened immediately, and they had hurried over at once. Soporifix showed up to join them and, since it was his daughter being held prisoner, they agreed to let him attend.

Gatafix had set up a ring of chairs by the hearth, giving everyone a place to sit in the glow of the burning embers. Each Gaul took their seat, sending concerned glances toward the corner where Gatafix was ministering to the wounded bard.

Gatafix finished rewrapping one of Cacafonix's burns, then came to join the group. They all looked exhausted; worry, and lack of a full night's sleep taking its toll. They couldn't even seem to sit straight, instead slouching against the chair, each other, or anything they happened to be sitting next to.

"He's fine for the moment," Gatafix said, reading their looks of concern directed toward the minstrel. Even though his fear for Cacafonix was great, Gatafix knew they had to focus their attention on the Romans. "So," he said, trying to shift the conversation, "I have been told of our most...unwelcome guests."

Vitalstitistix was silent for a moment. "Gatafix...are we out of magic potion?"

The druid sighed, holding a fist to his tired head. "Except for that which Asterix holds, there is no more."

The other's faces filled with fear as their hearts filled with an overwhelming jolt of dread. Everything that Roman commander had said was true. They really were helpless. They all sat in silence for a long time.

"Then we're finished then."

Asterix's eyes flew to their chieftain, disbelief evident on his face. "We can't just give up!"

"But they've left us no choice!"

Asterix stood angrily, glaring daggers at them all. "Choice!" he yelled, "A choice between what?!" Gatafix signalled him to keep his voice down, and the little Gaul only complied for fear of waking Cacafonix. "If you think surrendering will save all our lives, you're wrong," he hissed. He knew he was out of line, but he didn't care. "What do you think they'll do with us, eh? Incorporate us into their way of life? I don't think so!"

"He's right," Gatafix interjected. "We'll all be sold as slaves. Or worse, sent to the arena."

"We've been a thorn in Caesar's side far too long for him to just brush his hatred of us under a rug!" Asterix looked the chief in the eye. "We _can't _surrender."

Vitalstitistix hung his head. He knew Gatafix and Asterix were right. The Romans would not treat them kindly. _That's an understatement._ They'd parish for sure. But, if they stayed, wouldn't they die as well?

"How much time did they give us?" Gatafix asked, breaking into the chieftain's thoughts.

"A week."

The druid nodded sagely. "And how much food have we got stored here in the village?"

"A good portion of vegetables," Geriatrix responded, eyes never leaving the floor. "But no meat."

It was true they never stored meat in the village, other than during the winter. But it was summer; they hadn't even started storing that yet.

"And those vegetables won't last too long, not with all these mouths to feed," Unhygenix commented. "Not to mention that some may go bad before too long."

"Like you care about things being fresh," Fullautomatix said under his breath.

"Ah," Impedimenta said quickly, trying to defuse what she knew could become a fierce argument. "Couldn't we just send someone out to rescue Panacea and bring back some meat?"

"I'm afraid not," Asterix said sadly. "The minute we leave the village they'll know, and kill Panacea."

The thought was horrible. Panacea was one of the sweetest, most beautiful woman any of them had ever come across. To lose her was...unthinkable.

Soporifix had remained very quiet. His mind was on his daughter and he cringed at Asterix's words. He looked up when the silence stretched on and realized they were all looking at him. Their faces were full of concern and sympathy.

"Please..." the fatherly Gaul whispered, eyes pleading. "Please...save my daughter..."

The plea tore into their hearts. They all looked away, afraid that their sorrow would show in their expressions.

"...Please..."

...

The summer sun shone down through the leaves, casting waving patterns of dark and light on the forest floor. Birds sang cheerfully, and nearby the croaking of frogs in a stream could be heard. Colorful butterflies fluttered through the foliage, weaving between the bright flowers that graced the thick green grass. It was beautiful.

But its beauty was lost on Panacea. She didn't even notice.

The woman sat on the ground, knees drawn up to her chest. Her blue and white dress was soiled and her golden hair was frizzled and untidy. She glared up defiantly at the two soldiers guarding her. They appeared unnerved in her presence; or at least one of them did. Or perhaps they were afraid of the Gaul's wrath for capturing her and holding her prisoner. _Humph! In that case they've a right to be frightened! _Panacea knew that her friends would not take her situation lightly, but she feared for them. Oh, if only she hadn't been caught! The woman thought back to that dreadful day...

She had just left her home city, Condatum, to visit her friends and father in the Gaulish village. It had been a long time since she had traveled to see them, and she had been planning the trip for weeks. So, apparently, had the Romans. They must have been watching her every move; it was the only possible explanation. As she neared the border of Gaul, she had been ambushed. She didn't even have time to shout for help before she was gagged and whisked away.

Tragicomix wouldn't be missing her any time soon, assuming that she was safe, visiting with the village. No help would be coming from him for at least a week, and by then...it would be too late. Panacea felt like planting her face in her hands and having a good cry, but she wouldn't give her captors that satisfaction.

And so she continued to glare at them.

The two Roman soldiers who were at their post were an odd pair. One, tall, muscular and serious, paid her no attention, no matter how much she bored her eyes into him. He stood straight as a board, hand on his sword as if at any moment the 'savage' woman would leap upon him like a wild animal.

The second guard was far shorter. In fact, he was dwarfed by his companion. His stature was thin and small. He glanced back at her, nervously wringing his hands as she turned her intense gaze to him. He seemed to wither beneath it, and Panacea felt a mild sense of satisfaction in his reaction.

But then her mind wandered back to the frightened look on the faces of her friends and, especially, her father. What were they going to do? The Romans had them pinned down hard, and, if there was any truth in the Roman commander's words, they had no potion to fight with. That frightened Panacea terribly. It meant that the Commander had thought everything very carefully, timing each stage of their attack perfectly.

Her eyes fell on the catapult that stood in the short grass on the other side of the glen from her. Tall, stocky, and extremely imposing, the wooden structure gave a very menacing impression. Panacea shivered. Spacious had gloated about it when she had first arrived, and she had been forced to watch in horror as it launched a ball of fiery stone through the air, smashing right into the tall treehouse at the center of her beloved village. She had gasped in terror, knowing that, at that time in the morning, its inhabitant would be there, asleep. Cacafonix couldn't have lived through something like that...

Anger filled her once more as that thought sharpened her hatred of her captors.

**...**

**Sorry this chapter is so short. :)**


	7. Realizations

_Cacafonix stood in the center of the village, before all his friends and neighbors. He stood tall and happy, as he looked at their kind and loving faces._

_He opened his mouth to sing...but nothing came out. Not a sound. Fear gripped his soul as a pain began to spread all over his body. And along with it came the all-to-familiar nightmare._

_The sky began to glow blood red. Fire seemed to shoot out all around the village. Screams filled the air, as panic filled the Gauls. Cacafonix felt like the walls of the village were closing in on him, like a monster, threatening to engulf him. Again he tried to speak; call out; anything! But he couldn't utter a word._

_The pain in his body increased as a shadow started to spread across the ground toward him. He wanted to run, but his legs felt weak and wouldn't obey him. The shadow came closer and closer, until suddenly he was plunged into complete and total darkness..._

...

Cacafonix snapped back to consciousness with a gasp. He lay there panting, his skin coated in a glistening sheet of perspiration. His heart was beating at an incredible rate, to the point where each thump was a pounding pain that only added to every other hurt he was feeling. It was as if fire was coursing through his body, burning along every nerve and vain. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. His head and throat and abdomen and back hurt. By Toutatis, it even hurt to blink!

He lay there, waiting for the discomfort to pass. It was an intense stinging sensation, that increased in some places, but, as far as he could tell, covered every inch of him. After a minute or so it lessened, but it didn't disappear completely. It was a throbbing backdrop in the stage of his senses. Once the agony that was fogging his vision cleared, he carefully began to take in his surroundings. He lifted his head off the pillow just enough to discover that it was a bad idea. His vision spun, causing the room to tilt and turn in a sickening manner. After it finally stopped, he decided to carefully turn his head, rather then try lifting it again.

_This is...Gatafix's hut,_ he thought to himself, his confusion growing. He recognized the room full of hanging herbs and remedies, drying from the rafters. On the hearth lay the great cauldron that Gatafix always brewed their magic potion in. The druid himself was no where to be seen. _But what am I doing..._

Suddenly, all the memories resurfaced in his mind. A flood of still images flashed through his mind's eye. _The ball of fire. The pain. The fear_. His brain raced to try and assimilate all the emotions that were all at once mercilessly coursing through him. His breathing increased in speed, as did his heart. It made the pain more acute, but at the moment he didn't care. All he cared about was whether these memories were real. Were they events that really had taken place, or where they the remains of some terrible dream? He fervently hoped they were the latter, but something inside of him insisted otherwise. And there was the pain...

Gritting his teeth, the bard threw off the covers and agonizingly raised himself up. Dizziness swept over him immediately; leaving him sitting with his hands grasping the covers as if it would make it all go away. After a moment, it passed, and Cacafonix eased his legs over the edge of the bed until he felt the cold wooden floor beneath his bare feet. This time he felt only a little lightheaded, but as soon as his right foot touched the ground he was presented with a new pain. It spread up his leg in the form of a sharp spasm. He would have fallen to the floor had not he grabbed the bedpost to hold his weight.

Bracing himself against the cot, the bard finally looked down at himself. He gasped slightly as he took in the various bandages and the cumbersome splint that immobilized the obviously broken ankle. He was covered in linen; some wrapped around his knees, one arm was mostly covered, and his chest and side weren't even visible under the layers of cream-colored gauze. It made Cacafonix' stomach churn just imagining what was under those dressings. From the amount he was covered and the pain he was feeling, he knew it couldn't be pretty.

Knowing he was most likely supposed to be in bed, but too curious and troubled to stay there, alone with so many unanswered questions, Cacafonix fisted both hands and forced himself up until he stood. His balance was off, and the pain increased tenfold, but he decided to ignore it. He had to know. He had to.

Each step was agonizing, one unsteady foot in front of the other, but the bard finally made it to the door.

It was morning, but the sun seemed dulled somehow. The sky was overcast, but not enough to cast such a depressive shadow. A sort of hazy fog was rolling over the gates from the world outside the village. For some reason, it felt threatening.

_Cacafonix felt like the walls of the village were closing in on him, like a monster, threatening to engulf him. Again he tried to speak; call out; anything! But he couldn't utter a word._

A growing panic began to surface in the musician's heart as the horrors of his nightmares flooded back to him. It mixed with the images of...of...reality? Or tricks of a stressed and pained mind? He suddenly found himself rushing, at least to the best of his ability, toward his tree hut. A sinking dread was spreading through his mind, and he suddenly felt desperate to see his home, as if it held all the answers. And maybe it did.

The village was deserted, as it was obviously too early for anyone to be up and about. In fact, the first rays of light were just beginning to rise out from the horizon, but it would take time for it to pierce the thick, swirling fog.

Suddenly, the bard came to an abrupt halt. _Oh, no...no..._

His eyes roamed the blackened pit that gaped where his house had once stood. The tall, powerful trunk; the thin, spiraling stairs; the warm wooden platform, and the beautiful little cottage far above the village; it was all gone. Not a twig remained. Not a leaf. Not a board. All Cacafonix's belonging: his bed, his clothes, his music, and even his beloved lyre, no longer existed. Wiped from the face of the world in a fiery nightmare that was more real than the bard could ever have dreaded.

The wind blew through the village, rustling his hair, slamming cold against his unprotected skin. But the bard barely noticed. He stood, frozen to the spot, gazing with wide eyes at the pile of ash that had once been his home. His mind wandered numbly through all the happy memories he had had there, high in the air where each sunrise and sunset was his to watch. It was something he had always treasured...and now it was gone. His home was nothing more than a smoldering heap of charred wood, if even that.

"Cacafonix?" _Someone had awakened. _"Cacafonix!" His mind was so jumbled Cacafonix couldn't be sure, but it sounded like Fullautomatix's voice.

The bard didn't turn. Instead he continued to stare weakly at the spot where his cottage had once stood tall and proud above all the others.

Fullautomatix had always been an early riser. It, in his mind, had always given him an edge in the market. He would always catch the very first customers, something that he gladly rubbed in Unhygenix' face. This morning, however, he had had a different motive. The troubles from the day before had followed the blacksmith to bed, making it impossible to sleep. He had tossed and turned all night long, his mind wandering over the thoroughly unpleasant situation. A sense of growing anxiety intertwined with fear. One day. One whole day had gone by. They had found no answers. No way to save Panacea. No way to escape the Romans. Nothing. It weighed heavily on the smith's heart, as it did with all the other Gauls.

Figuring that he was keeping his wife awake with all his fidgiting, and hoping some inspiration might come to him, Fullautomatix had gotten up and dressed to take a stroll within the quiet village. He hadn't been going long when he spotted a figure, standing perfectly still. Squinting against the glare of the fog and the rising sun, the blacksmith realized with surprise, and a bit of horror, that it was Cacafonix. He called out, but the bard didn't even seem to hear him.

Jogging over, Fullautomatix came to stand beside his dazed friend. The look of total shock and disbelief written on the bard's face was painful to see. It was as if someone had taken Cacafonix' soul and beat it to a pulp, throwing it back into the world, trampled and wounded, much like the thin musician's frail-looking body.

Fullautomatix hesitantly raised a hand and gently laid it on Cacafonix' shoulder. The blacksmith didn't want to disturb him, but he was truly worried. Cacafonix was leaning unsteadily, and shivering, as though at any moment be might just collapse. The morning air was chilly, and the bard still had no shirt, as it had been ruined in the fire. Fullautomatix shuddered at the memory of Gatafix working the charred material from the musician's scorched side. Cacafonix was covered in bandages, but that did little to protect him from the cool breeze.

Fullautomatix knew the bard had to be in pain. His mind subconsciously went through the list of his friend's injuries. _Burns, cuts, bruises, and something about a broken_ ankle... The blacksmith looked down and discovered that Cacafonix was indeed favoring one limb over the other.

Cacafonix didn't react to the smith's touch. In fact, there wasn't any sign that the bard knew he was even there at all. He just continued staring into space, standing weakly with shoulders slumped. And that frightened Fullautomatix more than anything else.

Realizing he'd have to help his friend a little more forcefully, Fullautomatix gently took hold of both Cacafonix' shoulders and carefully started steering him back toward Gatafix' hut. After about five steps Cacafonix did exactly what he'd expected from the moment he'd seen the bard swaying on his feet: Cacafonix collapsed.

Fullautomatix gave a light grunt as the bard's full weight was suddenly against him. Cacafonix wasn't very heavy, but it was a surprise nonetheless.

Shifting the musician in his arms, Fullautomatix carried him bridal style the rest of the soon as they crossed the hut's threshold Fullautomatix began yelling for for Gatafix.

The druid emerged from a room far in the back of the cottage, a look of surprise and anxiety painted on his bearded face. When he saw the bard he rushed forward to assist the blacksmith in placing Cacafonix back on the cot in the corner.

"What happened?"

"He made it outside somehow," Fullautomatix answered , voice strained with worry. "He was looking at where his tree used to be." The blacksmith looked down and was surprised to find Cacafonix looking up at him. He had suspected, when the bard had collapsed, that he had passed out. Apparently, that wasn't the case, as Cacafonix was definitely conscious. His legs must has simply given out.

Cacafonix seemed distressed, which wasn't a surprise, but it seemed to be more than that. He appeared to be trying to say something. As Fullautomatix watched, a feeling of apprehension grew within him.

Gatafix shook his head sadly, unaware that the bard was awake, as he had his back turned as he fetched some extra bandages. "He must have been starting to remember what happened yesterday morning." Things just kept getting worse. The village was surrounded by the enemy. Cacafonix was badly injured and possibly suffering mild trauma for all he knew. They had little to no potions whatsoever. Panacea was in the hands of a madman, and-

The druid's thoughts were suddenly broken when someone tightly gripped the back of his wrist. Turning and looking down, Gatafix found it was Cacafonix, who had somehow managed to sit up and now had a death hold on his arm. The bard's face was filled with a combination of fear, horror, pain and confusion.

Gatafix sighed sadly as the mixed emotions in Cacafonix' features slowly melted into panic. Cacafonix was trying to say something, but couldn't.

The druid knew two things for sure at that moment:

That Cacafonix had indeed lost his voice...

...and that Cacafonix knew it.

_Again he tried to speak; call out; anything! But he couldn't utter a word._

**...**

**Whew! That one took a while! A little longer than the other ones for once. :) **


	8. A Step in the Right Direction

Cacafonix sat motionless on the bedside as Gatafix changed the old bandage around his wounded side. No matter how careful the druid was being, Gatafix knew it had to hurt. The skin was healing, but still looked terribly irritated. Splotches of bright pink contrasted with the pale white flesh around it. Yet, even as he gently lay the clean linen against the painful-looking burn, Cacafonix did not even flinch.

The bard's mind was filled with questions he knew he couldn't express. It was as if losing his voice was like losing all connection with the world around him. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. A heavy weight seemed to have settled in his heart. It was an ache; a sensation he had never felt before. A deep bitterness swirled there as well, or maybe it was just plain anger. An anger that was aimless, not directed at anything, and yet was there, demanding to be expressed. He was mad, but didn't seem to have the energy or will to direct it at any one focus. It was just there. The emotions made him dizzy and confused. A mess of intense emotion that thundered within him, but on the outside was completely calm.

Gatafix gently finished tying off the clean linen he had wrapped around the bard's side, careful not to secure it too tightly. The druid was watching Cacafonix, and what he saw worried him.

When he had discovered his loss of voice, Cacafonix had panicked. It had taken both Gatafix and Fullautomatix a full hour to calm him down. Now, he just sat there, staring into space. He just seemed to go blank, not reacting to anything they said or did. But Gatafix knew that Cacafonix was indeed feeling something. He had simply become so focused on his inner thoughts and emotions that he had outwardly shut down. It was the bard's way of coping; this Gatafix knew. And, for the moment, it was working.

The bard was dissociating himself from his troubles, which, while helping to keep Cacafonix calm, wasn't necessarily healthy. Holding one's emotions inside never was, and eventually they would force their way to the surface.

Fullautomatix still stood by the bedside. He looked completely worn. His blond hair was ruffled and untidy. He looked different without his characteristic apron tied about his waist, making his clothes hang rather loosely about his tired frame. He leaned against the bedpost, struggling to keep his eyes open. Sleep threatened to overtake him, but he fought to keep it at bay.

The blacksmith observed Cacafonix with worry. The bard seemed so distant. It just didn't sit well with Fullautomatix. Cacafonix was normally a very outgoing personality, who never had trouble making himself heard.

Gatafix finished and stepped back with a sigh.

"How long will he stay like...this?" Fullautomatix asked, gesturing toward the slumped figure.

The druid shook his head. "I really can't tell you for certain. He's feeling overwhelmed by what has happened in the last two days. He doesn't know how to deal with it. That's why he's become so...unresponsive."

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

Again Gatafix sighed. "Not without my potions. The only thing we really can do is make him comfortable. He's in a state of shock, but I fear that may not be all."

Fullautomatix ran a hand through his ruffled hair. "Why am I not surprised." Everything had been going wrong lately; why shouldn't this be any different?

"He went through a terrible ordeal the night his tree burned down," Gatafix continued. "It is more than likely that there will be some repercussions from it."

"Repercussions?"

"He may suffer some rather less than pleasant traumatic symptoms. In fact, his odd condition at this moment might be attributed to that very thing."

Fullautomatix wasn't completely sure what that meant, but he knew it couldn't be good. "Then he _will_ snap out of this?"

"Oh, I have no doubt he will," Gatafix assured him. "When his mind feels ready to face reality." The druid moved over to reach up and grab a bundle of herbs that were hanging above him. They, unfortunately, had no magical or medicinal properties. Taking it down, Gatafix paused, gazing at the tough, green shrubs in his hands. "When he does 'snap' out of this," he said softly, "He is going to need us to help him...maybe even more than now. His life's been turned upside down, Fullautomatix...and that is a difficult journey to travel alone."

"He won't be alone," the blacksmith said, his own quiet voice matching the druid's low one. He sat down on the cot beside Cacafonix. The bard didn't even bat an eye.

...

Obelix was never one to be particularly agitated. He was a simple soul, who didn't understand much of the world and how it worked, but that had never bothered him. To Obelix, life was a colorful place, full of tasty wild boar and plenty of harmless Romans to pound. Life was good; peaceful. Safe.

That frail image had been shattered.

Obelix sat on the shaded bench outside of Asterix's hut, staring at the dirt beneath his feet, hands hanging limply in front of him. The world felt dimmed and void. Worry ate away at him. Worry for Cacafonix. Worry for Panacea. Worry for Asterix. Worry for everyone. Suddenly the world didn't seem like the wonderful place it had once appeared to be.

Asterix sat on the seat beside his large friend. He was dwarfed next to Obelix's immense height and girth, but even as far as normal Gauls went, Asterix was very small. His feet didn't even touch the ground when he sat on the wooden bench. His hands were clasped loosely in front of him, settled between his knees. The wings on his helmet drooped low, adding to the sad appearance his posture suggested.

The blond haired Gaul was deep in thought, also occupied with the ground beneath him, as he strove to come up with a plan; anything that might get them out of their desperate situation.

"Asterix, we're in big trouble, aren't we?"

Asterix nodded slowly, without looking up. "Yes." His voice made him seem even smaller. He stared off into the distance, silent for a moment. The sky was still overcast, not allowing much light through the haze, but what little did make it through warmed him. Birds chirped in the forest, and, every once in a while, a gull could be heard out at sea. It was a peaceful day, as far as outward displays were concerned, but beneath it all Asterix knew everything was not alright.

They had all been told by Fullautomatix about Cacafonix walking through the village that morning. How the bard had managed to get as far as his tree, no one could guess. Their friend was awake now...at least, to a degree. But there was also Panacea...How was she faring? They didn't even know. She could be hurt. _She could already be dead..._

Suddenly Asterix slammed his fist down on the pine bench. The rough impact hurt, but he ignored it. "We've got to do something, Obelix," he declared. "We've got to at least try!"

His outburst made the larger Gaul jump in surprise. "But if we try anything the Romans will..." he couldn't even finish.

"We'll all die if we don't find a way out of this, Obelix."

The big Gaul nodded slowly. Asterix was right of course. He was right, but that didn't mean Obelix had to like the idea. Quite frankly, the well-covered Gaul hated it. Not only because doing practically _anything_ risked Panacea's life, but because he knew who would insist on volunteering. Asterix would go. Asterix always went. Always put himself in harm's way, and it bothered Obelix terribly. He looked down at his friend. The blond Gaul was deep in thought again, absent-mindedly stroking Dogmatix, who sat between them.

The black and white dog could sense the village's anxiety. He could feel anger, confusion and fear emanating from every Gaul, and it made the tiny canine very uncomfortable. And then there was his master. Never before had Dogmatix sensed such strong, negative emotions coming from Obelix. It was rather frightening. Oh, he had seen Obelix mad, but it had always been an almost childish kind of anger. The type that dissolves quickly and didn't have all that much force behind it.

This time it was different. Obelix was truly mad. Very mad. But also sad and anxious. Dogmatix could feel it; sense it. Even though the pup could not fully understand why his master was in such a state, Dogmatix knew he must stay near him at all times. Obelix would need him.

Asterix, on the other hand, was another case entirely. The feelings coming from him were ones Dogmatix had felt from him in times past. Fear mixed with frustration mostly, but with a very strong underlying current of guilt. The little Gaul handled his job as village warrior quite seriously. Whenever something went wrong he always took it very hard, as if it had been his fault. As if he were the one to blame, even when there was nothing he could have done. While everyone else's emotions were directed at the enemy; their fear; their anger; Asterix's were always directed at himself. Blaming himself. Convincing himself that if any enemy existed to the Gauls, it was his inability to keep them all safe. It fueled him. Made him fight harder. But Dogmatix could sense it often hurt him a great deal.

This was one of those times.

Dogmatix leaned into the blond Gaul's warm, gentle touch. He wanted to comfort both humans, but wasn't sure how. For now he'd just have to be there for them. And for the moment, that was enough.

Asterix's eyes scanned around him, hoping for inspiration to strike him. He didn't have long to wait. As he brought up a mental image of the village in his mind, Asterix realized there was still one place they could go through to get outside the gates. It would still be risky, but something had to be done. They were already two days short of the week the Romans had given them.

He leapt to his feet, grabbing his friend's hand in an effort to haul him up as well. "Obelix, we need to gather the others! I've got an idea!"

In the distance, over the sea behind the village, a gull gave a high-pitched call.

**...**

**Just a short chapter to keep things moving. :)**

**The feelings Cacafonix is experiencing in the beginning of this chapter are based on some emotions I was struggling with a few months ago. A very close friend of mine went through something terrible, something no one should ever have to go through. When I found out, I experienced much what Cacafonix is. My mind seemed to get caught into a loop of ****despair, aimless anger, and disbelief, while on the outside I just kind of locked up.**

**As for Asterix blaming himself for troubled times when he isn't to blame, that too comes from my experience. I tend to blame myself for other people's suffering, even when I was in no way connected to what happened. I feel that if I had just been there to protect them, even if that meant me getting hurt too, then things might have turned out alright.**

**But I know everything happens for a reason. God doesn't cause suffering, but he does sometimes allow it. Sometimes we need to go through hard times, so we come out stronger. God knows that. It's like getting a flu shot, a little bit of the disease, so that later we can stand and fight against the real thing.**

**Wow. Sorry, that was deep. Sometimes you just need to write something out, you know? Especially if you usually hold it all inside.**

**Alright, back to the story...**


	9. Waking Moment

"So you see," Asterix finished, "It's the only way outside the gates left open and unguarded."

The Gauls had met in Gatafix's hut once more. Again Vitalstitistix, Fullautomatix, Geriatrix, Unhygenix, Obelix, and Impedimenta sat in a circle in the druid's home. Their eyes lit up with hope at Asterix's suggestion, seeming to cause their faces to glow; though it may have been the firelight.

"But," Asterix quickly cut in, "If it doesn't work, and our attempt is discovered...Panacea could loose her life. If it is successful, she will be safe, and we'll have more food. It's a chance, but it could be a costly one."

All eyes turned to Soporifix, who sat in the corner, by the hearth. None of them felt they could decide the fate of another man's daughter. That decision was for Soporifix alone to make.

Panacea's father gazed down at his hands, which were resting on his knees. They were trembling slightly. He tried to weigh the options; make a logical choice, but it only led to one conclusion. If they didn't surrender, Panacea _would_ die; if they did surrender, they would possibly _all_ die. If they tried Asterix's plan, Panacea _could_ survive. It _might_ work._  
_

_Could_ and _might_ was better than _would_.

"We...we need to save my daughter," the Gaul said softly. His knuckles turned white as he clasped his shaking hands in an attempt to control the quakes. "The odds are still against us, no matter what we do. So we'll have to take the lesser evil." He turned and fixed his eyes on Asterix. "Give your plan a try...and may Toutatis have mercy on us all."

The others nodded in silent agreement.

Gatafix, who was sitting in a chair halfway between the assembly and Cacafonix's bed, also nodded. He agreed there was little else to be done. "Who will be going out?"

Obelix knew what was coming.

"I will," Asterix replied, stepping forward without hesitation.

"Now, Asterix-"

"Obelix, we don't have time to argue," Asterix warned. He had known Obelix wouldn't like him going out alone. But they had no choice. Obelix couldn't go; he would be too easy to spot. To big a target. Asterix wanted his best friend in the village, where it was safe. Well..._safer_.

Obelix crossed his thick arms over his chest and stood, glaring down at the small warrior. His voice took on its no-nonsense tone. "Mr. Asterix, I am simply trying to point out that your plan is too dangerous to carry out alone!"

Asterix stood to his full height, which didn't even come close Obelix's chest. His expression filled with frustration. "Mr. Obelix," he said, trying to keep his temper under control, "_I_ am trying to tell you that this may be the only way we can save Panacea and ourselves!"

"Well, then why can't I come?!"

"BECAUSE!"

"BECAUSE WHAT?!"

Gatafix stepped between them, arms attempting to hold them back; trying to defuse the argument. "Asterix, Obelix, please, calm down."

"WE ARE CALM!" both Gauls bellowed in unison, causing the others to cringe.

In the tense silence that followed, a small sound, barely noticeable was heard. Whether it was a grunt or a whimper, no one could say, but what they knew for sure, was from where it had come.

Turning as one, the assembly was greeted with the sight of Cacofonix, conscious and aware, standing shakily beside his cot. He was terribly pale, contrasting sharply with the dark, sickly circles under his eyes. But the blue orbs were open, and looking directly at them. Gone was the glazed, far-off look that had worried them all so badly.

Gatafix rose from his chair quickly and moved toward the bard, watching with relief when Cacafonix's eyes followed his movements.

When he was standing beside Cacafonix the druid lay a hand gently on the musician's shoulder, mindful of the many bandages that resided there. "Cacofonix, how are you feeling?"

The bard tried to speak, and Gatafix mentally kicked himself. _How could I have forgotten!_

Cacafonix pushed a fist hard against his chest, a look of great anxiety on his face. His breathing was starting to hitch, and Gatafix suddenly realized the bard was about to fall headlong into panic. _That would be very bad in his condition!_

The druid firmly took hold of both the bard's shoulders, this time regardless of the burns. He had to get Cacafonix's attention before the musician sent himself into hysterics. It worked. Cacafonix stiffened and stopped struggling to pull away, looking right into Gatafix's eyes. It was rather unnerving. The blue eyes were full of terror and pain, boring into his own dark ones. If the eyes were the window to one's soul, this one was in great distress.

"Yes, Cacafonix, you have lost your voice. I...I don't know how long it will stay that way, but I need you to stay calm." Fear still resonated in the bard's eyes. "I promise we'll do everything we can. I just need you to trust us. Can you do that?"

Cacafonix looked at the druid, then to the people watching anxiously from the other side of the room behind Gatafix's back. They looked back at him, nervous, but sending him encouragement with gentle smiles. A sort of peace came over his face and he relaxed in Gatafix's hold. The druid sighed in relief, letting go of the bard's arms.

"Good. Very good. I didn't want you to hyperventilate. Now, Cacafonix, do...do you remember what happened?"

Cacafonix shook his head slowly, but then paused. _Fire. Pain. Fear._ It all came back to him in a flash. The ball of fire, flying toward him; the earth-shattering smash as it hit; the pain when...no just pain. That was all. Just unbearable pain.

Cacafonix nodded weakly. Gatafix sighed in relief. _At least there's been no to damage to his memory._

The druid's relief suddenly turned to confusion as Cacafonix began to wave his arms about, gesturing with his hands wildly. Gatafix and the others watched, perplexed, feeling guilty that they couldn't understand the broken, spastic movements.

"He's trying to ask us what happened."

Everyone turned to Obelix, surprised that, out of all of them, he was the first to comprehend the bard's meaning.

The big Gaul shrugged at their stares."It just makes sense."

Cacafonix nodded. The motion made him feel lightheaded and he almost fell forward onto the floor, but Gatafix caught him and helped him sit back on the bed. Cacafonix gave him a grateful look.

"It was the Romans," Gatafix explained solemnly. "They were some how able to catch your tree on fire."

"We barely had time to find you and get you out before it collapsed," Unhygenix said, shuddering at the dreadful memory. The stricken look that came over the bard's face made him wish he hadn't mentioned the musician's demolished home.

To Cacafonix the disaster was fuzzy; fragmented even. He remembered it in pieces. Something hitting the tree...hard. It had shaken its very roots. He was thrown inside his cottage. There...was smoke...and fire, and pain. All he could remember clearly was the pain.

The bard looked down at his thin body. He was covered in bandages. He could feel the itching sensation of healing wounds beneath them. He looked back at the druid, a question in his eyes.

"You were badly burned...among other things," Gatafix explained, seeing the confused and frightened expression on his face. "In fact, if you wouldn't mind, I really should take a look at them. It's hard to determine the extent of your injuries when you're unconscious, which you have been for nearly two days."

Cacafonix seemed startled by this information. To him, the memories of his ordeal were still fairly new. It bothered him more than he would ever admit that he had not been aware of the passage of time for two whole days.

The bard nodded his consent and the druid moved to unwrap the linen around his torso. But Cacafonix drew back suddenly. Fearing he had unwittingly hurt his friend, Gatafix gave him a concerned and questioning look.

The musician had bent over, his shoulders and arms leaning forward stiffly, as though he were trying to make himself as small as possible. Cacafonix, hand still pressed against his chest, lifted one finger, pointing behind the druid. Gatafix turned, confused, but then his face lit up in understanding. The bard was looking at the other Gauls, especially Impedimenta, with embarrassment.

Gatafix smiled with amusement. Looking over his shoulder at the silently watching group, the druid raised an eyebrow. "Could we have a little privacy, please?"

The Gauls blinked at him as if he had spoken in some incomprehensible language.

"Oh," Impedimenta said, slowly. "Oh!" The full impact of Gatafix's words finally became clear in her mind. She blushed deeply as she began shoving the others out the door, taking charge in an effort to diminish her own embarrassment.

"But not Fullautomatix and Unhygenix," Gatafix called, as he started to locate the ending place on Cacofonix's bandage. He saw the unhappy look the bard gave him. "They've done a fine job helping me so far, and I will be in further need of their assistance." He said this more as an explanation to Cacofonix then anything else.

The two Gauls in question remained while the others quickly left. They felt just a bit uncomfortable, but Gatafix didn't let them stay idle long enough to dwell on that.

...

Asterix and Obelix left and walked away from Gatafix's hut in silence. Both avoided each others eyes and neither spoke. It was always like this after they had an argument.

It was as if a physical barrier; a gap; a canyon, separated the two. A rift in their friendship that was so easy to create. Once it was made it felt as if nothing could ever fix it. Like nothing could ever be done to make things right between them. That was what it was like every time Asterix and Obelix fought. And every time it happened they always forgot just how easy it was to dissolve that terrible barrier.

"Asterix...I'm sorry." Those were the words that always closed the gap.

Before the words where even out of Obelix's mouth Asterix had launched himself into the larger Gaul's arms. He hugged him fiercely, clinging to him as if afraid to let go. "No, Obelix, I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper...It was wrong of me."

Obelix's face softened even more as he wrapped his thick arms around his friend. Asterix nearly disappeared beneath them, his legs dangling below, and his head just barely visible above. After a moment the two separated. Obelix set Asterix safely back on the ground, and the two friends quickly wiped any indications of tears from their eyes.

Yes, they always forgot how easy it was to fix that dreadful chasm between them. They were both very strong with their words. They were both good at arguing, and standing up for what they thought was true, at least in their own opinions. But they were the best at using their words to make things right; to encourage rather than to hurt.

"Obelix...if you want, you can come with me," Asterix said carefully. He still didn't like the idea, but he couldn't tell his best friend what to do. Obelix was a grown Gaul, and could decide things for himself. However, Asterix couldn't shake the image of Obelix being spotted while outside the village, because of his immense size. That would lead to nothing but suffering...for all of them. _And Panacea..._

Obelix shook his head with a small, gentle smile. "No, Asterix. You are right." He looked down at his widely girth. "Somehow I think a...well-covered Gaul would be a bother when sneaking about." He gave Asterix a playful nudge, that almost sent the blond Gaul sprawling. "You're so little, they won't even know you're there."

Asterix grinned widely, attempting to push his friend back, but gave up when Obelix didn't even budge. "Thank you, Obelix...I think."

"Just...just promise me..."

"Yes?"

"Promise me you'll be careful, Asterix. You're my closest friend...I don't know what I'd do if..."

Asterix patted his arm soothingly. "Hey, hey, pal...I'll be alright. I'll be _very_ careful. Alright?"

"A-alright."

The two wandered off to gather the supplies Asterix would need for his venture that night. The rift in their friendship was dissolved. The argument; the shouts; the glares...they were all forgotten.

The Gauls did not notice the two small eyes that watched them from the safety of a bush beside one of the cottages they had been standing near. Once the two adults were out of sight, the child emerged.

Picanmix was a small boy, who only came up to Asterix's chin in height. His blond hair was bright and thin, giving it a soft and fine air. It flitted gently through the air as he glanced from left to right.

Obelix had said that it was because of Asterix's small stature that would make his plan to save them from the Romans more likely to succeed. Picanmix thought hard for a moment.

The Gaulish children had been talking with each other. The events of the past two days had been confusing and frightening for them. They did not truly understand the full complications of their situation, but they did now one thing: The adults were worried. Even Asterix and Obelix were nervous and tense.

The children, Picanmix in particular, had always hailed the two Gauls as heroes. Which, indeed, they were. Obelix and Asterix had saved them more times then anyone could count. The Gaulish children often fought over who should be who when they played in their fantasies. For only two children could play Asterix and Obelix at a time. They were the little ones' role models. There wasn't one young boy who didn't aspire to grow up to be just like them. Sometimes even the little girls were inspired.

Picanmix shook his head. Things had to be pretty bad if Asterix and Obelix were worried.

_"You're so little, they won't even know you're there"..._That was what Obelix had said. If Asterix was small, Picanmix was even smaller. He could pass unseen. He could be a hero, just like Asterix. The little boy nodded to himself, his decision made.

If Asterix could do his best to save the Gauls, why couldn't he...

...

"Fullautomatix, go fetch some clean water from the well. Unhygenix, go find some vegetables. Just a few, however. Under the circumstances, we need to conserve our supply."

The two Gauls rushed off to do as the druid bid. Gatafix chuckled softly to himself as he saw Cacafonix visibly relax. The bard was relieved now that he no longer had an audience. He was apparently very self-conscious without his blue and white-checkered tunic.

Gatafix proceeded to unwrap the linen, finding to his surprise, but pleasure, that the burns were healing abnormally fast. The disturbing patches of charred flesh were already starting to fade as new layers of skin replaced the damaged ones. Many were nearly completely gone, and it was obvious that there might not even be any scars once they finished.

As happy as this made him, Gatafix was completely bewildered. Why would the wounds be healing so quickly? And efficiently? It didn't make any sense. He had not used any potions, or powders, nor anything that could so miraculously mend the bard's scorched and broken body. And yet, here was Cacafonix; conscious and moving without too much trouble when, in all logical sense, he should not be able to do so. Even his ankle, which Gatafix had determined broken himself, was now able to hold the bard's weight, causing only a slight limp.

Gatafix sighed. He'd have to think about that riddle some more later, but for now he had things to attend to.

By the time Fullautomatix and Unhygenix returned, Gatafix had rebandaged the bard's side, which was one of the few injuries left that needed to be wrapped. It was not healing as fast as the other wounds...Of course, it had been more serious.

Gatafix had also found one of his old, long, white tunics. He had cut the material to normal shirt length and helped Cacafonix slip it on. The musician looked odd in pure white, as it was not his usual choice of color. The tunic was far to large for him, hanging loosely, and the sleeves had to be rolled up so as not to cover his hands completely. But it was better than nothing. The bard seemed much more at ease now that he was covered.

Gatafix took the water and vegetables Unhygenix and Fullautomatix had brought and threw them into the big cauldron over the fire. He started cooking them into a very light stew, adding just enough spices to give it taste. Cacofonix's stomach was completely empty; it would be unwise to give him anything too strong.

While the druid worked, the other two Gauls sat down and caught the bard up on everything that had happened since the Roman's first attack. Cacofonix listened attentively, eyes wide and hands clutching the cup of water Fullautomatix had given him. He became very distressed when they told him about Panacea, but relieved when told Asterix had a plan. If anyone could get them out of this mess, it was the little warrior.

"We're sorry about your tree, though," Unhygenix finished. He became thoughtful. "We haven't been able to figure out how the Romans did it. You know, caught your house on fire? Flaming arrows could not have reached that high, nor would it have caught fire so quickly." A mental sound replayed in his head, of the sudden noise in the night that had started this whole nightmare.

Cacofonix began shaking his head and signing with his hands again. When all he received was blank stares he sighed in frustration, looking about him for some way to convey his message. His eyes lit up and he pointed to an apple in the pile of things Unhygenix had gathered. He gestured to it repeatedly, indicating that he wanted it.

Confused, Fullautomatix rose and got it, bringing it back and setting it in in the bard's hand. By this time Gatafix was watching as well.

Cacofonix set the apple in the palm of his right hand, placing his elbow on the top of his knee, With a sudden movement, he shot the lower part of his arm forward, launching the fruit across the room.

The other three Gauls watched as the apple flew through the air, hit the far wall, and then fell to the floor, bouncing once or twice before coming to a stop.

A silence followed.

Fullautomatix couldn't figure out why his friend had wanted the fruit, if all he had planned to do was hurl it across the room. The meaning didn't snap into place until Getafix's troubled voice broke the silence.

"A catapult."

Cacofonix nodded vigorously.

The blacksmith paled considerably. "By Toutatis..." He couldn't even imagine what that must have been like; to be hit by such a powerful weapon. It put the damage, as well as the bard's injuries into a new light. "With fire?"

Getafix nodded slowly. "I would not put it past the Romans, especially that fiend, Spacious, to devise such a thing." Gatafix motioned to Unhygenix. "Go tell the others."

The fishmonger got up and quickly left.

Getafix went back to his pot of boiling stew while Cacofonix leaned back in the bed. He was thoroughly exhausted, and as he lay there his eyes slowly fluttered shut. Before long, the bard was sleeping peacefully. For the first time since the fire. One of his hands subconsciously lay against his upper chest and throat, as if doing so would somehow release the invisible barrier that prevented him from speaking.

Fullautomatix watched sadly, wishing with all his heart that there was something he could do.

**...**

**Wow, that chapter really just seemed to flow from my typing fingers! It's quite a bit longer than most of my other chapters! :)**


	10. Brave Actions and Kind Words

Asterix slipped the wooden paddle in and out of the water without hardly a ripple. The silence was almost deafening; so still, it was as if he were the only human being on the planet. It was refreshing, in a way, but also instilled in him a sense of great loneliness. It reminded him that he needed to stay focused and careful. His mission depended on it.

The sea stretched out as far as his eyes could see to the north, seeming to go on and on until it fell off the edge of the earth. The cold water was like a giant mirror, reflecting the purplish light that shone down from the heavens. Stars danced in the gentle waves, causing them to wink and shimmer. Like an immense rift, the Milky Way, or so Gatafix called it, strung along the night sky. It was beautiful. Like a peaceful dream. But Asterix had no time for such pleasures.

His plan had been very simple. Sneaking out the back of the village, he had made his way carefully towards the beach. How lucky it was for them that the village was built right up against the sea! It made the likelihood of him being spotted a little less.

Making his way over the cold, wet sand, Asterix found one of the Gauls' many rafts. It took some doing, but the little Gaul finally managed to loosen it from the soil and push it out into the waves. He hopped aboard, bringing his legs out of the chilling water to the dry logs of the craft as if the biting chill burned him. For a summer night, it was unusually frigid. Soon he was out into deeper water. Silent. Dark. Hidden.

After some time he glanced to his left, and slightly behind him. The dark silhouette of the village stood out black against the glittering atmosphere. It looked strangely small in comparison with the vast world in which it resided. For years it had stood, like an island of freedom. While Caesar conquered village after village; country after country; it remained strong. Asterix would do anything to keep it that way.

...

Panacea sat in the wet grass, scowling into the flames of a small fire. It had been two days. She could feel her heart slowly slipping into despair. She knew the Gauls were trying to find a way to save her, but it didn't encourage her as the sun sank into the west for the second time.

She was glad that, besides guarding her, the Romans had left her relatively alone. Commander Spacious had come to gloat over, what he was convinced would be the final blow that would bring the invincible Gauls to their knees. Panacea had responded that her friends, and her father, would never give in. They would never surrender. She was just one life; the village was many, composing of men, women and children. If she had to give up her life for theirs, then so be it.

Spacious had given her the nastiest grin before going back to his lavish tent on the outside of the clearing where the Romans were camping.

Panacea sighed and gazed up at the dark sky above her. The firelight made it impossible to see the twinkling stars, but she knew they were there. She had been raised in this countryside. She knew each sound, each smell, and each sight. She knew that a small creek ran not fifty feet to her right. She knew that a short distance away, dark and mysterious, lay the large boulder she had often climbed as a child. The trees stretched up toward the dark abyss, catching the light and casting long shadows that blended with the gloom of the forest around her.

Panacea's spirit sank even lower. Yes, she was willing to sacrifice everything for her friends, but she knew full well that they were more than willing to do the same for her. Panacea's greatest fear was that the villagers would do something rash in an attempt to save her life. Especially her father. She knew he must be terribly worried. She wasn't sure she could stand anyone getting hurt for her sake.

A twig snapped, causing the young woman to look to her right sharply, golden hair swinging about her shoulders. She frowned when she saw it was one of the Roman guards from before. It was the small, thin fellow who had appeared so nervous earlier.

Panacea fixed him with a distasteful glare. She pulled her tattered cloak about her shoulders. The warm glow of the fire lit her face, giving it a autumn tinge that brought out the blond in her hair. The flames seemed to dance in her eyes as she gazed over the fire at him. The Roman just stood there, a full plate of food in his hands.

"What do you want?" she demanded, not holding back the disdain that had crept into her voice.

The Roman flinched back at her harsh words and took a cautious step back. He was trembling, she noticed, causing the platter and spoon in his hands to jitter and rattle. He looked as if he would dart off back the way he had come at any moment.

Panacea moved her eyes to the plate, giving it a longing look. Whatever it was, it smelt wonderful. She was very hungry, and the enticing aroma made that fact once again known to her stomach with a vengeance.

"What...what is that?" she asked, trying not to sound as interested as she felt.

It wasn't that her captors hadn't been feeding her, but she certainly hadn't been given any feasts. Bread and water, twice a day, had been the limit of their hospitality.

The guard looked about him, as if checking to make sure no one was watching. Which, Panacea though odd, since he was obviously the only guard on duty at the moment. _Must be his watch_.

Panacea gave him a curious glance as the Roman came over hesitantly, and held the platter out to her. He kept glancing over his shoulder. The young woman took the food carefully, as if she expected it to be poisoned, but the meal looked and smelled fine. In fact, it looked and smelled _delicious_!

"Th-Thank you," she stammered, thrown off by his kindness.

The Roman gave her a nervous nod, still appearing very edgy. As Panacea began to eat, what looked to be boar stew, the small, thin guard made his way over to the fire and sat down. He didn't venture too close, but he wasn't on the other side of the flames. It became apparent to Panacea that he was doing more than keeping an eye on their prisoner; he was keeping her company.

She cleaned the platter thoroughly, leaving not so much as a drop of evidence it had ever been dirty. She would have licked its surface, if not for the fact that she had been brought up prim and proper. She handed the plate back to the Roman, who set it on the ground at his side. They sat in silence for a moment. The longer the quiet lasted, the more uncomfortable the situation became.

Panacea drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her thin, graceful arms around them, all the while studying her odd, and flighty visitor.

"What is your name," she asked finally, figuring that was the best question to start with.

The Roman startled slightly at her voice. Looking about again, just to make sure the coast was still clear. Establishing once again that it was, he turned back to her. The woman's eyes were catching the honey-colored glow of the firelight, causing them to sparkle. Her expression seemed less imposing; more open and friendly. Or maybe it was just his imagination. Either way, it gave him the courage to reply.

"Anxious."

_Well...that was certainly fitting._

Panacea motioned to the empty platter with a tilt of her head. "Why did you bring me that?" Then she added quickly, "Not that I didn't appreciate it. It's just...I wasn't expecting any kindness here."

Anxious nodded understandingly. "I...I saw what they were giving you to eat. It wasn't right...I-I know you're the enemy, but...So, I thought, maybe I could get you a little something." He gave her a shy smile, and Panacea found herself returning it.

This Roman was not like the others. He treated her as an equal. Something she had not expected.

"Couldn't you get in trouble for that?"

The Roman flinched, glancing over his shoulder at the empty clearing. Panacea noticed he was trembling ever so slightly. _He's terribly frightened..._

"I-I suppose, but you...you needed something to eat. You hadn't had a good meal in so long. Almost four days; since they caught you."

"And you risked getting in trouble for me? That is very...noble of you."

The guard blushed, wringing his hands in a mix of embarrassment and nerves. "I just thought you could use it, after all you've been through."

Panacea's smile faded and her eyes took on a far away look. "I haven't been through nearly as much as my friends have," she said sadly. She fixed her gaze on the glowing embers of the fire, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She jumped when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She looked up and found that Anxious had scooted closer to her, laying a hesitant hand on her arm. To her surprise, his face contained almost as much despair as her own. But there was something else. Something stronger. Guilt?

"I am so sorry," he said, his voice shaking as he withdrew his hand. "When I was recruited for this mission I...they didn't tell me..." He sighed miserably. "I wish we had never come here. It's not right for us to besiege a village that contains, not only men, but women and children as well. And to use such a terrible weapon..."

Panacea's mind brought up the image of the catapult launching the immense fireball through the air. It had lit up the night sky, almost looking beautiful, if not for its deadly properties. Then it had hit Cacafonix's tree, right against the upper side, just about level with the place where the tree became planks of wood, making up the bard's cottage.

Panacea had screamed. In anger. In fear. It complete and total horror. Disbelief had shown in her eyes as she watched the flames take hold, consuming the building with monstrous energy. Panacea couldn't watch anymore. She had turned and cried into her hands, weeping for what she was sure was the demise of one of her beloved friends. And beside her, grinning like the evil demon she was sure he was, stood Spacious, the Roman Commander.

Anxious watched in remorse as a single, shining tear made its way down the beautiful woman's cheek, leaving behind a wet trail, that glistened in the firelight. More then ever he felt guilt pounding away in his soul. He remembered his own horror that night.

He had watched in quiet fascination as the giant boulder was loaded into the bucket of the catapult. The beam groaned under the added weight, but held firmly. The weapon was positioned and then, to the surprise of most of the Roman garrison, Spacious grabbed a torch from one of his men and held it to the stone. In a soft, thumping explosion, it burst into flames, casting dark and light shadows across the Commander's smirking face.

That was when Anxious had realized what was about to happen.

Oh, he had known that they would be sending at least one boulder into the village. That had been their plan. But he had highly doubted that it would have done much damage. But with the added element of fire...not even the invincible Gauls could fight against such a formidable enemy.

Anxious wanted to say something. He wanted to speak up and try and stop this madness...but he was too afraid. One look at the pure evil on his Commander's face made him freeze. That was not the look of a sane man...

The ropes to the catapult were suddenly cut, and with a whoosh that sounded terrible and odd in the quiet night, the boulder was launched. And as the fireball from destruction itself smashed into the house-laden tree...

...she had screamed.

It was a sound that shattered the night like thunder; like glass. It echoed throughout the forest, frightening birds, still deep in slumber. It spread itself upon the breeze, carrying itself out to sea. But as far as the pain-filled screech may have traveled, no where did it hit harder than the thin soldier's heart. Something about that cry did more to him then any sword or spear ever could have; piercing his very soul. It was a sound that was sure to haunt his dreams for years to come...all because he had been too frightened to speak up.

And now, here he was; sitting with the very woman who they had caused so much suffering. He wanted to comfort her. Tell her everything was going to be fine in the end...But who was he, an accomplice in this horrendous crime, to comfort her, the victim of their misdeed. And yet, comfort was all he could give to ease his pain and guilt.

The two sat in silence, gazing into the now dying fire.

Anxious looked over at the young woman. Her eyes were closed, and a gentle breeze rustled her golden hair. As he watched, the firelight caught something on her finger, causing in to glitter. A ring.

"You are married?" he asked gently.

"Yes," Panacea said, a small smile coming to her face as she looked down at her hand at the circle of gold.

"What is his name?"

"Tragicomix."

"Ah. He is in Condatum, isn't he?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause. An uncomfortable pause.

"Do you have a family?" It was Panacea's turn to inquire.

"Yes," the Roman said, a grin flitting across his face. "I have a beautiful wife. She's a wonderful cook. She sews. She's a real treasure. But her greatest quality is her kind heart."

"Not all that unlike you."

He blushed.

"Have you any children?" the woman asked, turning so she was facing him a little better. He shook his head.

"Not yet. I...I haven't seen her for months. I haven't seem any of my relatives, not even my parents, for at least that long." His face fell. "That's what happens when you sign up with the Roman army."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." Quickly changing the subject he asked, "And you? Where is your family?"

The sadness returned to Panacea's beautiful features. She lifted a hand, sweeping it weakly toward the village. "My father lives here. It's where he raised me. I haven't seen him for some time either."

"And your mother?" He caught the look of total devastation. He knew that expression all too well. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Panacea laughed, trying to cover up the tears that had started to show in the corners of her eyes. "It's not your fault."

_Well, at least something wasn't,_ he thought bitterly.

"ANXIOUS!"

The Roman jumped to his feet, getting himself a more inconspicuous distance from the prisoner just as another soldier came into the clearing. It was the big fellow; the one that Panacea had decided looked more like a fat, ugly boar then a man.

"Yes," Anxious squeaked, the nervousness that had diminished over their conversation returning full force.

"Your watch is over. Go get some sleep. I'll watch over the barbarian."

Anxious resisted the urge to give him a piece of his mind. That woman was certainly _not_ a barbarian. She sort of reminded him of his wife. Not in appearance, you understand, but in temperament. In her mannerisms. He hated to leave Panacea with the big brute, but knew she would be safe. Spacious had ordered no one to touch her, on penalty of death. Anxious gulped as he remembered laying his hand on the woman's shoulder. He was digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole, he knew. He just hoped that hole wouldn't become his grave.

**...**

**Here we go, another one. :) I couldn't find if there ever was a Roman named Anxious in the comics, so I came up with this one. If there is one somewhere, this is not the same one, and the fact that they share the same name is purely coincidental. :)**


	11. The Commander's Move

The forested shore loomed to his left, seeming to grow in size as he drew nearer to its bank. The gentle swish and splash of the waves raked over the gritty sands of the beach. Crickets and other nightly insects sang in the tall grasses by the waterside, like a soft symphony lulling the rest of the world to sleep. But for the most part, everything was utterly silent. In the distance, an owl let out one, sad call, causing the sound to echo through the quiet forest.

Now that he was here, Asterix felt his stomach twist into a tight, uncomfortable knot. It always did that when he was stressed about something, or feeling uneasy about a particularly hard mission, but it was undoubtedly worse this time. Maybe it was because he knew how dire his situation really was. Or the fact that other people's lives were at stake. No, that couldn't be it. He had dealt with that kind of pressure before. So why was he so nervous? Why was he so tense?

_Because you can't rely on Gatafix's magic potion to get everyone out safe this time,_ his mind answered. That was it. Or at least, partly it.

Asterix subconsciously lay a hand on the little green gourd on his belt. It gave him a little comfort knowing it was there, but that was about all it could do tonight. He had brought it with him, just in case, by some miracle, a chance to use it arose. But that was very unlikely. Asterix couldn't take the chance of dashing into the Roman camp, bashing soldiers left and right. He knew it would be a very bad idea. While he was busy beating up the sentrys, someone would make their way back to Spacious before Asterix could stop them. Then he'd never make it in time. Spacious would kill Panacea before Asterix could even make it through to her. And Asterix knew he would.

Sneaking would be his main tactic. That had been the chief reason for making Obelix stay behind in the village. The big Gaul's heart might be in the right place, but Asterix simply couldn't afford the risk. Obelix was huge, to put it kindly, and would more than likely be spotted. He also tended to be very noisy. His normal footfalls were like mini explosions, and anything short of a tip-toe sounded like an earthquake.

No, Asterix decided he had done the right thing by convincing his fellow Gaul to stay behind. Obelix was his friend, and enough of his friends had been put in harms way recently. He didn't want any more suffering, or pain, or fear; all he wanted was for things to go back to normal. At the moment, the prospect of that ever happening felt very nearly impossible.

He would sneak in. Spacious was a proud Roman, thinking himself and his race unbeatable. As far as the Commander knew, he had the Gauls at his mercy. The Romans would be at ease; confident of their victory. It would be fairly simple to make his way in undetected...he hoped.

Reaching the shore, Asterix once again slipped into the frigid water. It came up to his knees, then came up a little higher as his feet sank deeper into the sand as a wave was dragged back out to sea. Struggling slightly to keep his balance, the little Gaul took hold of the raft and proceeded to pull it far enough up the bank as to keep it from floating out to deep water.

He got it up and concealed, throwing reeds and other grassy plants that resided by the ocean's shore on top of it. In the dark it was well hidden; only someone looking for it specifically would ever spot it at all.

Once he knew his craft was secure, Asterix began to make his way into the dark forest. He took small, slow steps; keeping as quiet as he possibly could. One noise could blow his cover. One twig. One false step. His senses felt acute; alert. That was always how he worked when he was in the midst of danger. He felt more awake. As if he could feel, hear, and see more clearly. He became completely focused on the world around him. Not a sound escaped his ears. The slightest noise had him pausing, breath held in suspense. After several moments, with no evidence of another living soul, he would continue.

A light breeze rolled through the forest, bringing with it a burst of cold air. Asterix wasn't expecting it, and he shivered, wishing he had brought a cloak.

The murmur of low voices caught the Gaul's attention, and Asterix quickly and silently slipped into the underbrush. Just in time too, for two soldiers came into sight a short moment later.

They were completely attired in their uniforms and armed to the teeth. Each held a long spear in their right hands, and had a sword buckled on belts around their waists. The helmets on their heads caught the soft light of the stars above them. The two Romans conversed lowly, but Asterix was close enough to hear them fully.

"I hate these night watches," complained the first, rubbing a fist into his tired eye. It was obvious they had been on duty for quite some time.

"Eh, quit your bellyaching," mumbled the other, grouchily.

"I can't. I'm sick of this endless patrolling, night after night."

"Commander's orders. You have to."

The first Roman paused in their walk, giving his companion an annoyed look. "Why _is_ he making us guard the whole forest, anyway? It's not like the Gauls are going to try anything. We've got them well under our thumbs." He made a downward motion with his own thumb to emphasis.

The other Roman laughed. It wasn't a friendly one either. More like the kind when you're humoring an imbecile. "You're new here aren't you?" He pointed in the direction of the village. "Those Gauls could beat our entire regiment to pieces before we even knew what hit us. They've got this potion that gives them strength. Their druid makes it for them." He shook his head. "Nope. You don't assume anything when it comes to that lot."

"But they're out of potion, aren't they?"

"That's what the Commander believes. But he knows these Gauls real well. Studied them they say. For _months_. He's not taking any chances."

Asterix felt his heart falter at the Roman's next words.

"We're all out patrolling in case one of them gets it into his head to try and rescue the prisoner. The minute they try it, we sound the alarm. The Commander would take care of that woman we've got back there. The Gaul would never make it to her before it was too late."

"What do you mean?" the other Roman asked. Apparently he wasn't the smarter of the two.

"It means she'll be dead, stupid," the soldier hissed. "Now come on. We've got to keep patrolling, unless you want to be taking the prisoner's place."

After a moment, the sound of their movements diminished, fading from sight and sound.

Asterix emerged from his hiding spot, careful not to make any sudden movements. He didn't know if there were any other patrols in the area, but he wasn't going to risk being heard.

The little Gaul cursed under his breath. He had been right. Unsettlingly right. He should have known the Commander would know better. Spacious had anticipated their next move. _His_ _move_. It bothered him that the Commander could predict them so accurately. Of course, it could all be a coincidence...but somehow, Asterix couldn't bring himself to believe that. The woods were crawling with soldiers. Asterix was sure that Spacious wouldn't have spared a single man on his detail to keep watch. It just fit with the Commander's behavior so far. It made Asterix...nervous. Something about the Roman disturbed him. Frightened him. He knew them better than any Roman Asterix had ever come across. Knew _him_ better.

Of course, Asterix had quite accurately predicted the Commander's plan as well. That, for some reason, was almost more disturbing. It was as if he and the Roman's mind worked in the same manner. Planned the same. They could anticipate each others movements. Like a game of strategy. Two opponents...both of equal ability. Both fully capable, and both willing to make the next step. But the question was, who would triumph? Asterix had the feeling that this game would never end as a tie. Someone had to win...and someone had to lose.

So now it was Asterix's move. Should he charge ahead with his plan? Or head back to the village? What was Spacious expecting him to do? It hurt the little Gaul's head just to think about it. Neither choice was at all pleasant. The sun had set for the second time. That only left five days to either rescue Panacea...or surrender. To go ahead with this plan might bring about the woman's death far earlier than that. If he went back to the village, they could try and come up with a way to outsmart the Roman Commander.

That decided it. _He who fights and runs away, may live to fight another day._ This wasn't a defeat, it was a drawback.

Sadly, Asterix turned and headed back toward the place where he had hidden his raft. It was almost painful to do so. Practically everything in him told him to go ahead with the original plan: save Panacea and bring her back to the village. But that small, nearly unnoticeable nudge deep inside him told him it would be a grave mistake. That voice was very weak compared to the loud shouts of his other feelings, but over the years Asterix had learned to listen to it. Its whispers had always served him well, and he wasn't about to turn his back on it now.

Behind him, the forest grew even quieter. It seemed relatively empty, but looks could be very deceiving. The woods were swarming with quiet patrols of restless soldiers. And behind that, in a clearing not too far away, Panacea sat by the soft light of a dying fire.

The cold air was even more noticeable to the girl now that her main source of heat was all but gone. She shivered, wrapping the remaining rags of her tattered cloak around her. She wanted more wood for the fire; she even asked the hulking guard, but he ignored her requests. Attempting to gather some herself proved even more disappointing, as the moment she moved to get up she was threatened by the Roman's long, deadly spear.

So now she sat in the dark and lonely cold. The glowing embers of the fire didn't light up hardly a thing. They only pulsed gently in the ashes, slowly dying...just like the hope in Panacea's heart. She gazed in the direction of the village, thinking of each of her friends in turn. They would be settling in for the night. She pictured the little cottages, full of the warm light of comfy hearths. Beds of clean straw and cloth, stuffed into comfortable mattresses. She remembered the warmth and safety those little cots had always given her when she was a child. Tucked lovingly under the covers by her father each night, knowing she was surrounded by a sturdy wall and strong, brave adults, she never feared the dangers of the outside world.

That safety was threatened now. The villagers would sleep uneasily. Even the warmth of the beds would do little to allay their fears. The wall that once symbolized protection, now represented imprisonment; and the strength and bravery of the adults would be torn between fighting for their freedom, and preserving their lives and the lives of their children.

Panacea carefully lay down in the damp grass. The moisture from the dew soaked into her dirty and wrinkled dress, making her even more miserable. At least her stomach was full, thanks to Anxious. Panacea still wasn't sure what to think of the small, kind-hearted Roman. A part of her was still weary of him. He was a Roman soldier after all; under the command of that lunatic, Spacious. But the rest of her told her he could be trusted. Something in the man's face seemed to calm her suspicions. He had been genuinely concerned and...sorrowful. Regret had practically shone from his dark eyes. Fear too. Fear of being caught? Of the Roman Commander? Panacea wasn't sure. But what she was sure of was that Anxious had taken a risk to help her, and for that she was extremely grateful. In all this terror and worry and anguish...it was nice to know she had at least one friend out there. Even if he was a Roman.

Before long, Panacea's eyes slowly slid closed. The stress of her captivity finally tossing her into an uneasy sleep. She drifted in and out of consciousness, keeping stock of her surroundings whenever she awoke. Each time the guard still stood at his appointed post, and each time the embers of the dying fire were less and less, until it went out completely. But there was still light. The sky above was filled with bright stars, shining down through the forest trees, illuminating the ground below.

...

It was sometime later, though how long Panacea didn't know, that a loud clang filled the quiet forest. It rang out through the night, shattering the stillness. It jerked Panacea from her restless sleep, causing her to sit up with a start, wondering what it was that she had heard. At first, she thought that perhaps she had dreamed it, but that idea was soon put to rest as more noises filled the night.

First there was a number of shouts in the direction of the Roman tents. An alarm of some sort. That was soon followed by more calls and yells, and the muffled thumping sound of people running swiftly through the forest.

Panacea noticed how her guard became more alert, pointing his spear at her, making sure she wouldn't take the opportunity to escape. He stood frowning, eyes trained upon her menacingly. Panacea had no doubt he wouldn't think twice about running her through. He took one moment to glance toward the ruckus; though only a moment. That was when a horrible though hit the young, frightened woman.

_What if one of the villagers had risked trying to rescue her!_

The thought brought a whole new level of fear to her heart. There was no way they'd make it! She had seen the patrols Spacious had assigned to watching the forest from every side possible. Without magic potion...her rescuer wouldn't have a prayer.

Suddenly the forest was alight with the glow of many torches. They cut through the darkness, chasing away the gloom, but bringing no comfort in its wake. Panacea stood hastily to her feet as a procession of Romans made their way into the clearing, headed by none other than Commander Spacious. As always, his face was caught up in an evil smirk, a sort of belittling smile that made one feel sick. It was as if he knew your every fear, and how to use it to his advantage.

"Ah," the fat commander began, coming to a stop in front of her, the rest of his troop assembling behind him. "I see your still here. Good." He slowly began to circle her, as if he were a hungry beast preparing to strike down his pray. Panacea didn't turn to watch him, instead focusing on keeping her face as neutral as possible. She could feel the shivers of fear traveling up and down her spine, and fought against letting them be seen. She stood as straight as an arrow, eyes fixed ahead of her. In the crowd of Roman soldiers before her, she spotted Anxious. He seemed very distressed, which only added to her apprehension. His eyes seemed to be emitting pure and unconcealable horror and regret. But why? Panacea knew the answer, but refused to accept it.

Spacious came back in front of her again, fixing her with his toothy grin. He gave the impression of a man well at ease, but the slight stiffness in his stance told of hidden hostility. "Do you remember what I told your friends at the village, Dear Woman?"

Another pang of fear, but she pushed it down. She wouldn't be baited by this monster. "No."

"Oh, that's too bad," he countered, the smile never once leaving his face. "Here, allow me to refresh your memory. I said that if they refused to surrender before the end of this week, I would kill you."

Anxious blanched visibly.

"So I recall," Panacea replied curtly. "Let me remind _you_ that they would never surrender to you."

"Indeed. But you didn't let me finish. I also said that I would kill you if they tried to rescue you before that time come to completion."

Panacea felt a massive wave of dread wash over her, this time not being able to keep her fear hidden from her expression. Spacious caught her look and his grin became even wider. He motioned someone forward from the crowd with his large, unweathered hand and a Roman emerged, dragging a very ruffled, and very frightened, little boy by the arm.

Panacea couldn't hide her surprise as she ran forward to kneel down and take the child into her arms. "Picanmix!"

The big brute of a guard moved forward to stop her, but Spacious signaled him to remain where he was. He watched with glee as the woman checked the boy over for injuries; almost joyful in her reaction.

Panacea touched a gentle hand to the boy's face, which was far paler then she liked. Picanmix was trembling slightly, and he seemed close to tears. But he refused to cry. He wouldn't give the Romans that satisfaction. He was a Gaulish warrior. Warriors didn't cry. His face was dirty, and a number of small scratches covered his face and hands, probably from running through the underbrush. His clothes were wet with dew, as was his blonde hair, which clung to his head in clumped patches. He seemed unharmed, other than the scrapes, but Panacea knew they had other things to worry about.

Spacious came to stand by the kneeling pair, eyes lighting with a strange fire as he saw the flicker of fear that ran through both their faces. "This Gaul has broken our agreement. He came to rescue you, Dear Woman. For that, he deserves to share your fate."

Picanmix's eyes shifted between the Commander and Panacea, the full extent of those words not yet becoming clear in his mind. Panacea, on the other hand, understood completely.

"You can't!" she cried, hugging the little boy to her protectively. "He's just a child!"

The Roman cackled in agreement. "Indeed. But that matters little to me. He must have been sent by the others to free you."

"No," Panacea replied firmly. She knew that could never be the case. "They would never send a child into such danger! Never; no matter how desperate they were!" She turned to Picanmix, eyes searching his. "They didn't send you, did they?"

"No," the boy replied shakily, his face filling with shame. "I-I snuck out, when they weren't looking." His eyes shifted nervously to Spacious. "They don't know I'm gone."

"There, you see?" Panacea said, her voice betraying her desperation. "He's just -"

"Silence, Woman!"

Panacea fell silent at once, eyes wide. Spacious had never yelled at her; his voice was always low; confident. This was a voice that finally matched his lack of sanity. A chilling, unsteady shout; one that he gained control of the instant it slipped out. Once again his face was masked by that sickening smile, containing more malice than ever before, but well mastered. For now.

He directed his attention on Picanmix. "Tell me, Gaul, why did you come out here?" When the boy didn't answer the Roman's eyes glittered in rage. That was the only clue to his anger; the rest of his demeanor was calm and steady. He drew his sword and pointed it at Panacea, resting the tip of the blade just beneath her chin. "Unless you wish to be the cause of this woman's death, you will answer me."

"I wanted to save her!" Picanmix blurted out. "I wanted to be the one to fix everything! I- I wanted to save everybody...like Asterix always does." He looked down at the ground and it became harder than ever to keep those tears at bay. "I-I wanted to be like Asterix..."

Spacious sheathed his sword slowly, the smile returning back to his face. He began talking, though more to himself than anyone else. "Asterix...Mmhmm, oh, how you Gauls _do_ look up to him...He's your little hero." He let loose a nasty, chilling laugh. Even the other Romans seemed uneasy in the Commander's presence. "He's my real opponent. My real challenge; him and that fat friend of his. Oh, but Asterix is clever. He knows how this game is played..." His eyes fell back on the two prisoners. "I think I can use your "rescue" to my advantage, Boy. Asterix has been a block to Caesar's success long enough." He laughed again, and the sound echoed through the quiet forest. "Time to teach your _hero_ a lesson in strategy."

Panacea and Picanmix exchanged frightened glances.

This was bad.

**...**

**Wow, sorry it's been so long, everyone! I've been _so_ busy. But I haven't abandoned my stories, so do not fear. Here's another chapter, and I'll post another the moment I've finished it. :)**


	12. Necessary Risk

When Asterix awoke the next morning, he didn't feel rested at all. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he hadn't slept a wink. Not with the weight of their situation laying so heavily on him.

When Asterix had returned the night before, the Gauls had greeted him with hope shining in their eyes. But that hope had faded and died when they saw he was empty-handed. Some had been concerned; others angry. The rest simply wanted to hear what had happened.

Finding it difficult to explain his actions, Asterix had struggled to help them understand why he had done what he had. But each word he uttered seemed weak in his own ears. What had seemed so clear before had suddenly become clouded and hopeless. He was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to just collapse and give up. That terrible feeling grew almost unbearable when Soporifix pushed his way through the crowd. Their eyes had met, and for a moment everything else had faded. There was only them. Asterix saw the fear and anxiety in the fatherly Gaul's face turn to deep sadness; disappointment. Disappointment in _him_. For some reason, that hurt far more then anything Asterix had ever felt. Those eyes had burned into him, leaving him speechless and empty. Like a part of him was writhing in agony on the inside. Asterix's worst fear had always been letting the other Gauls down. And he had let Soporifix down badly.

The world had felt as though it were crashing down around him, and there was nothing to keep him from being crushed...

A sudden touch on his shoulder had caused the small Gaul to look up into the kind and worried face of Obelix. The large Gaul had muscled his way in to stand beside his friend; to support him. As small a gesture as that had been, it had meant the world to Asterix. It had given him the strength he needed to wrestle past his conflicting emotions, answer the remaining, plying questions of the villagers, and head wearily off to bed.

He had still gotten very little sleep. Anxiety kept his mind going in loops, flashing from one fear to the next; going in obsessive circles as he tried to find a solution. He had lain in the dark, staring up at the thatched roof of his cottage far into the early hours of the morning. If he slept at all, it was too small an amount to have done any good, or for him to remember.

As the morning rays of the sun trickled through the window, a very tired Asterix stumbled down the stairs of his home, blinking against the rather unwelcome brightness. The beautiful, summer morning blossoming outdoors almost seemed to mock his dark mood; laughing at the fogging seriousness that had settled in his mind. He sighed, but managed to smile when Obelix came in without so much as a knock. Dogmatix yipped as he followed at his master's heels.

"Morning, Asterix," his large friend greeted as cheerfully as he could manage. It was a brave attempt at their usual carefree atmosphere, but it still fell miserably short.

"Hello, Obelix. Did you have breakfast?"

The big Gaul's stomach answered with a tremendous rumble. Obelix patted it soothingly, as though he were quieting some monstrous beast. "No. I'm all out."

That wasn't a big surprise, since Obelix ate so much. Of course he'd run out of food before everyone else.

"I'll take a look and see if I've got anything you'd like," Asterix called as he headed into his store room. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable."

Obelix gingerly sat at his friend's table, trying as hard as he could not to upset anything. It wasn't easy, moving around in Asterix's home. Everything in it was set at the blond Gaul's height, which just so happened to be the perfect "knock over" height for Obelix. Then there was his weight to consider. The benches at Asterix's table were made for a much lighter person. _Much lighter_. And even though Obelix had never believed or considered himself to be "fat", he was well aware of the fact that he might weigh a _few_ pounds more than Asterix. And so it was with great care that Obelix lowered himself until he was sitting on the little wooden seat. It didn't break, but it _did_ let out a long, protesting creak.

After a moment or so Asterix returned with an assortment of fruit and bread, with a small canteen of water. It was a very small amount, and the disappointment must have shown in Obelix's face.

"I'm sorry, Obelix," Asterix said as he deposited the meager breakfast onto the table in front of his guest. "I guess there's not as much in my storage as I thought." He gave his friend a half smile-half grimace. It was then that Obelix noticed for the first time just how exhausted Asterix looked.

"You didn't sleep very well last night, did you?"

"You can tell?"

Obelix ignored the sarcasm that had crept into the blond Gaul's voice. "Maybe Getafix has something that can help you rest and..." His voice faded as Asterix shook his head sadly.

"I don't need rest, Obelix. I just need for this whole mess to be over. I've got to come up with a way to fix this. There are others who are in far worse shape then I am. Let them rest; I can't." He paused, not making eye contact. "Besides, I'm fine."

Obelix nodded, knowing arguing would be useless. He _knew_ Asterix was tired. He could see it in the way his friend moved and spoke; stumbling and uncoordinated. Dark shadows lingered beneath his usually bright eyes, and he was a good deal paler than usual. He looked awful. But Asterix was a stubborn man. He wouldn't rest until he had found a way to save them all. That was just who he was; his job as village warrior. Nothing short of being punched out would be able to get him to rest, and that, of course, was out of the question.

Obelix looked down at the pitiful pile of food on the table in front of him, just as his stomach gave another insistent growl. Asterix gave a laugh; a weak, tired kind of sound, but a laugh nonetheless.

"You'd better eat that before the others hear and think that we've got a bear loose in the village."

Obelix chuckled before becoming serious. "Aren't you having any?"

"Oh, I'm not very hungry right now, Obelix. You go ahead. I'll have something later." He sat down across the table from his friend, giving another forced smile.

_He's lying_. Asterix had never been a good lier. It hurt the larger Gaul slightly that Asterix felt the need to tell him such an obvious untruth, but he wisely decided to let it go. If Asterix wasn't hungry now, he would be later. He had to eat eventually. And so, as slowly as he could to make it last longer, Obelix began to munch his way through the small meal. It would be little more than a snack to him, but he appreciated it. When you had an appetite as large as his, every bite counted for something.

As they talked softly about things, such as the weather and what different people were up to, Dogmatix leaned soothingly against Asterix's side. He was feeling increasingly uneasy. The pup had been relieved to sense that this morning his master had seemed a little less upset. Oh, the anxiety and tenseness still lingered, as it did with every other Gaul in the village, but that intense anger had faded, at least somewhat. That had been a great relief to Dogmatix, who had found it very unnerving to see Obelix in such a state. He was glad to see that the condition had not been permanent.

Asterix, however, was far worse. His nervous, self conflicted state had become nearly overwhelming, even to Dogmatix, who was only vaguely sensing the strong emotions. It had quickly become apparent to the small canine that, of the two, Asterix was more in need of his reassurance. And so, as the two Gauls conversed, Dogmatix had made his way up and over to the smaller man and given a small whine to let him know he was there. Asterix tensed at the pup's touch, but quickly relaxed, running his hand over the soft black and white fur, all without really seeming to realize he was doing it. It had the desired effect, as Dogmatix sensed his anxiety lessening to a more bearable level.

Obelix noticed that the subjects of their small-talk stayed well away from any mention of their troubles outside the cottage. But he didn't object. He could understand Asterix's need to shut everything out, even if it was just for a short time. He needed a moment to pull back and catch his footing, so to speak.

"We should go see Getafix," Asterix said at last, almost reluctantly. That sentence marked the re-entrance into that troubled world outside. "See how Cacofonix is fairing."

Obelix nodded, gingerly getting up from the bench. He had eaten a good portion of the food, but had been careful to leave enough for Asterix, for later when he got hungry. He vaguely wondered how the other Gauls were doing with their breakfasts. He was almost certain that they were all having as meager a meal as Asterix had managed to scrounge up.

Asterix had brought some food back the night before, when he had returned from his mission. It hadn't been much; a few fish and a rather scrawny boar. Those had been given to the children for their supper. Filling the young ones bellies was a priority at the moment. Food was beginning to run low, and everyone knew it.

"You sure you're done?"

Obelix nodded.

"Alright." Asterix gave Dogmatix one last stroke before rising himself. "Let's go."

...

Getafix opened the door as soon as he heard the knock. He appeared to be abnormally pleased with himself, and they blinked in confusion as the druid ushered them indoors with an excited, "Come in, come in!"

Obelix and Asterix were at a loss at his seemingly inappropriate behavior for their situation. They were trapped within the walls of their own home, slowly being starved, and here the bearded old man was, prancing about as if the world were all sunshine and daisies.

But the reason for Getafix's state became clear as they stepped inside. Asterix and Obelix's faces lit up in the first real, genuine smiles they had sported in days.

Cacofonix stood in the middle of the room, smiling and unaided. He was a little unsteady, as was to be expected; swaying slightly, but he was up and standing on his own two feet. There was little to no sign of pain on his face, though he was still very pale and tired looking. The white garments he wore did little to help that, only succeeding in making him look even paler. However, his eyes had regained some of their sparkle. But the greatest improvement of all was the obvious lack of bandages on his arms and legs. Before, he had been covered in them, trying to keep his injuries clean and safe from infection. Now, all that remained was a few scars and several purple bruises.

"It's amazing," Getafix breathed. "Simply amazing. I've never seen anything like it, at least, not without the aid of a potion. He's nearly completely recovered from the burns and cuts. The bruising is still there, as is that large, nasty burn on his side, but even those are fading. I just can't explain it."

Asterix moved closer, reaching out a hand to steady the bard as he pitched to the right. Cacofonix gave him a thankful smile.

"A good deal of the exhaustion remains," Getafix continued, "But rest should take care of that. As for the trouble with his voice..."

The room seemed to darken at those two words. _His Voice._ Not that the lighting actually decreased, you understand; just the mood. As though the world lost its shine to them. They stood in silence, the grins of triumph from before suddenly replaced with sorrowful, downcast eyes.

"Well," the druid sighed, "With his voice we'll just have to wait and see."

Asterix found himself blaming himself yet again. It was his job to take care of the others. His job to keep everyone safe and sound. He had failed to do so. _Failed._ He needed to make sure he didn't again. No matter what. The small man sighed, giving the bard's arm a gentle pat. He hoped it was encouraging to Cacofonix, because it did little to ease _his_ guilt.

Getafix laid a hand on the bard's other shoulder. "I haven't given up on the hope that your voice will return, Cacofonix," he said sincerely. "It might just take some time."Cacofonix nodded slowly. His smile was genuine, even though it was still laced with worry.

"Asterix!" The shout pierced the room from outside Getafix's cottage, shattering the silence.

Asterix felt his mind snap back to full attention as Unhygenix ran through the door, waving his arms frantically. He was out of breath, but seemed far to upset to take a moment to calm down. "Asterix! It's the Romans! They're at the gate again!"

Getafix and Asterix exchanged uneasy glances. This couldn't be good.

"Let's go," the small Gaul said, determination in his voice as he quickly headed outside, Unhygenix and Obelix close behind him.

Cacofonix made as if to follow, but he stumbled and Getafix took his arm to steady him. "You're not well enough yet, Cacofonix. They can handle this just fine. You, I believe, should get some rest."

The bard didn't look pleased. He was sick of being in bed. He wasn't even sleepy. Sure he was sore, but he was certain a little exercise would do him good. The druid, however, did _not_ agree. Cacofonix found himself in bed once again; staring up at the thatched ceiling.

...

Asterix pushed his way through to the front of the crowd that had assembled up on the parapets once more, just as Vitalstitistix's strong voice rang out. "What do you want know, Roman?"

Below, just like on that dreaded day this mess had all started on, the Romans stood at stiff attention. Lined in perfect rows, weapons in hand, and eyes fixed upward at the Gauls, they held the villagers' gazes. In front of them, again just like before, stood Commander Spacious. His sickening smile was still pasted on his round face, making Asterix wonder how a man could hold such a look for so long. You'd think his face would start to ache...Maybe it was just stuck that way.

"Good morning, Gauls," Spacious grinned, sweeping his right hand toward the bright, clear sky and glimmering sunshine. Just him complimenting nature made it seem to lose its glow. He turned back toward the assembly. He soaked in the general feelings of anxiety and fear that emanated from the Gauls. They were shaking in their boots, he knew...except Asterix. The blond haired fellow glared down at him with anger and determination. Defying him even now. _Stupid little warrior._ He would be singing a different tune very shortly. "I _do_ hope you have all been well," the Commander continued, as if he were merely stopping by for a friendly chat. But his tone held far too much menace to be friendly.

"I repeat. What do you want, Roman?"

Asterix found himself in slight awe of the strength in Vitalstitistix's voice. The past several days had hardened the chieftain a little. The worries and responsibility causing him to grow serious. Asterix hoped it wasn't a permanent change, but it was certainly what they needed right now. Vitalstitistix had changed his role from just chief, to chief and defender. He wasn't the bumbling leader he had been before. Even Asterix found himself hanging onto his every word; gaining strength from their sturdy, impenetrable force.

Commander Spacious held a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "I get the feeling you aren't happy to see us!" he cried indignantly. "I can't imagine why..." His cruel smile returned. "We, on the other hand, have been expecting you for the past two days..." He shifted his eyes from the chief, meeting Asterix's gaze with intense hatred.

Asterix felt his heart slam against his chest. His mind flashed to the night before, fervently hoping that Spacious had not been aware of his presence. He felt compelled to answer, but found his throat had suddenly gone dry. Thankfully, Vitalstitistix got the Commander's attention back on him.

"Sorry to disappoint you," the chief growled, only half civilly.

"Oh, we _were_ disappointed," Spacious replied, looking down at the grass beneath his feet as if all his dreams in life had been crushed. But when he raised his head once more his face showed no signs of sorrow. A cruel grin spread over his fattened features. "Until last night."

Asterix felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. The other Gauls unintentionally sent him fearful looks, and Obelix, who had stayed by his friend's side since they had reached the parapet, clenched his fists at his sides.

Again Vitalstitistix's voice called out, though considerably weaker. "What...what do you mean?" It was better to act as if they didn't know what he was talking about, if their faces hadn't already given them away. Perhaps the Roman was bluffing.

"Oh, come now, surely you know of your little...rescuer." Spacious gestured behind him as the Roman soldiers parted, revealing a very frightened Picanmix in the arms of an equally frightened Panacea. The woman gripped the child with a look of pure terror pasted on her pale face. The same look was reflected in Asterix's own.

"My son!" cried a woman to Asterix's right. It was Picanmix's mother. She reached her arms out toward the boy, anguish in both her voice and features. Asterix located Panacea's father as well. He too looked terribly pale.

The Commander smirked, reveling in the obvious fear he was piercing into the hearts of the villagers. He waved a solemn hand in the direction of the two quivering prisoners. "The boy attempted to save the fair woman." His face hardened and the glint in his eyes became sharp and dangerous. "I'm sure you remember the deal we made with you. You Gauls have broken that deal...and the price _must_ be paid."

Spacious gave a nod and a large menacing Roman stepped from the ranks, drawing his deadly sword. He advanced toward the woman and child, raising the weapon slowly.

Everyone stood in shock as the executioner neared his targets; villagers and soldiers alike. The Romans had not been informed about this part of the Commander's plan, with the exception of the one holding the blade. Horror filled all their minds, freezing them were they stood, mouths agape, unable to say a thing.

Except for one Gaul.

Asterix lurched forward, griping the wall tightly as his voice became desperate. He _couldn't_ let this happen. He _couldn't_ fail again. "Commander! Commander, listen to me! He's just a boy!"

The sword raised above the prisoners, preparing to strike.

Asterix's voice rose in pitch. "Spacious!"

"Stop." The Roman Commander's voice was calm, almost careless. The dangerous blade was slowly lowered, and Picanmix and Panacea released shaky breaths of relief. Spacious gazed back up to the villagers. Their eyes were wide; breathing and hearts faltering as they realized just how close they had come to disaster. "I'm not a cruel man," the Commander said, almost soothingly. "The boy said he snuck out without your knowledge. Since this was not a true rescue attempt, I am willing to spare their lives." The sickening smile returned. "I'm even willing to release the child, and return him to you."

A sense of dread filled Asterix; a foreboding. Spacious _was_ a cruel man. Every aspect of his character they had seen so for spoke that he was a heartless man, with no regard for human life whatsoever. For him to be 'gracious' and offer Picanmix back, safely, did not set well with Asterix's mind. There had to be a catch...

"All you have to do," Spacious called up to them, "Is send one of your men out here to get him." His gaze shifted to Asterix, looking the small Gaul right in the eyes. They seemed to burn into him, as though the Roman could see through him. Through his crumbling emotional wall. Through his tough little warrior act. Through everything. The Roman smirked nastily. "Perhaps Asterix, your _warrior_, could come and get the boy."

_There was the catch._

Asterix set his jaw, determination shining clearly in his eyes. Everyone was focused on him. They all knew the Commander had been making a demand, not a suggestion. It was either Asterix came out, putting his own life in danger, or they didn't get Picanmix back. Picanmix would die.

Everyone watched him. Every Gaul. Every Roman. The prisoners. And Spacious, whose eyes gleamed with a malicious spark. Even Vitalstitistix waited on the smallest Gaul's reaction. This was a decision the chieftain couldn't make for him. They all knew it was a trap...but Picanmix's life depended on the warrior's willingness to take the chance.

Asterix had no choice.

He met his chieftain's gaze, and Vitalstitistix could see the exhaustion and worry, overlayed with a weakening shield of resolution in the blond Gaul's face. The chieftain knew Asterix would take the challenge. It was his job as village warrior. It was how it always happened. Trouble come, Asterix took the risks, and everything ended up just fine in the end. But not this time. Vitastitistix couldn't remember a time when their situation had ever been so dire. It left a heavy feeling in his chest. A sense of hopelessness that they were all fighting.

Asterix could see the conflicted look on his chieftain's face. Vitalstitistix wasn't used to such difficult decisions. Life in the village had never been that demanding. All that had been required of the chieftain had been making announcements, keeping villagers happy, and, once in a great while, leading a general pummeling of the nearby Roman outposts. And that had always been with the power of the magic potion pumping through their veins. This was unfamiliar ground for the chief, and Asterix couldn't let him make the decision.

Asterix gave the chieftain a solemn nod, which Vitalstitistix reluctantly returned. Asterix stepped forward, eyeing Spacious with a strong glare. "I'll do it."

"No! Asterix, you can't!" Obelix grabbed his friend's arm as the little Gaul turned to descend the parapet steps. "It's a trap! Can't you see that!"

Asterix paused, Obelix's hand still wrapped firmly around his upper arm. It was a little tight, though not painfully so. But Asterix could feel a slight tremor making its way down his friend's arm into his. He gave the big Gaul a gentle smile, looking up, directly into Obelix's face. "I know." He was feeling surprisingly calm. "But we don't have a choice."

They held each other's gaze for a moment, before Obelix sighed and released his grip. Asterix gave an encouraging nod and started down the stairs, feeling very much as though his fate was now sealed. Obelix and the villagers turned back to face the Romans below. They felt uneasy and sick. A dark foreboding seemed to block out their hope, like a cloud concealing the rays of a fading sun.

All they could do was watch.

Asterix pushed against the gate, grunting softly. It was heavy, but he only needed to open it wide enough for him to slip through.

Spacious called out, "Well?!" just as Asterix stepped outside the wall. The Commander seemed pleased. "Ah, there you are." He grabbed Picanmix by the arm, pulling him forward to stand beside him. "Come get the boy, _hero_."

Asterix took a deep, steadying breath, and started walking slowly toward the assembly. He felt the safety of the village leave him, or rather, he left it. It was like crossing an invisible line. One side, the side he had left, was a sanctuary from the dangers of the other. Now he was outside that ring of safety. There was no turning back.

Everything was perfectly quiet. No one made a sound; not the Romans, and not the Gauls. Even the birds in the forest seemed to choke on the tension in the air. They were all frozen in place; the only thing moving was their eyes as they followed Asterix's progress.

Despite the fact that the Romans stood only about twenty meters from the village gate, to Asterix it felt like miles. After what seemed like an eternity, the short Gaul stopped in front of Commander Spacious. It was the first time either of them had met face to face; at least, not at this close a range. Spacious had never considered himself a tall man, but, even so, he seemed to tower over the shorter man before him. Their eyes were locked, and Spacious found himself smirking. In his opponent's eyes he saw strength and defiance. But there was something else...fear. Desperately shielded anxiety, but Spacious saw it and grinned.

"Here is the boy, Asterix," he thrummed, pushing the child forward, though without letting go of Picanmix's arm.

Asterix kept his gaze on the Commander. "No tricks." A statement, not a question.

Spacious shook his head slowly. Asterix didn't believe him for a second. Without looking at the child, Asterix held out a hand. "Picanmix, come here."

The boy glanced nervously up at his captor, unsure if he would be permitted to move out of the Roman's grip. Picanmix shot a look toward Panacea as well. She was terribly pale. Eyes wide and unmoving, she was the very essence of fear itself.

The boy reached out with his free hand and grasped Asterix's like a lifeline. The moment they touched, Picanmix felt the Roman Commander's hold slacken and release. The child quickly moved so he was beside the blond warrior, looking nervously between the two adults. Spacious gave a nod, which Asterix returned.

Asterix tightened his grip over Picanmix's hand firmly. This was it. This was when he would be most vulnerable. But he had to do it; Picanmix was counting on him. The boy needed to get to safety, even if it meant jeopardizing his own. Finally turning his eyes to look at the child, Asterix took a deep breath...

And turned his back.

Spacious watched as the Gaul and the boy turned and started back toward the safety of their village. He noticed how Asterix placed the child in front of him, effectively blocking the Roman's view of Picanmix. The Commander smirked. Asterix was shielding the boy. Asterix _knew_. But that made the Commander grin all the more.

Asterix gripped the child's shoulders firmly as he steered Picanmix in the direction of the gate. His heart was pounding, and waves of panic made his legs feel weak. His back, open and unprotected, felt terribly vulnerable. He had to keep fighting the urge to whirl around, lest he be attacked from behind. But that wouldn't do. They were backed into a corner. The only way out was the way Spacious had left for them...a way that was sure to collapse on them at any moment. And so, Asterix moved as swiftly as he could, keeping his eyes fixed on the gate ahead.

Spacious stood perfectly still. Watching. Waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Every eye was on Asterix and Picanmix, just like the Commander wanted. He wanted everyone to witness what he was about to do.

As Asterix and the boy reached the halfway mark between the Romans and the wall, Spacious's smile became frighteningly demonic. He opened his mouth and spoke one word. Not shouted; not yelled. Just spoken. But that one word reached everyone's ears.

"Fire."

**...**

**I am SO SORRY it took me so long to post this chapter! Finals are next week, and I've been insanely busy. I plan to try and finish this story during Christmas break. :)**

**OH! By the way Asterix fans! A new Asterix movie came out last month in France. You can check out the trailers if you want. The movie is called ASTERIX LE DOMMAINE DES DIEUX (Translated = Asterix: The Domain of the Gods). ;)  
**


	13. Fury and Hurt

"Fire."

Everyone heard the command. It shattered the awful silence; causing every eye to turn in fear to Spacious. His evil smile did little to allay their fears.

The Roman, Anxious, watched nervously. His heart had been aching with guilt for the pain and misery they had brought to these people. As Asterix had nearly reached the gate once more with Picanmix in tow, he had started to think maybe, just maybe, Spacious had truly released the child with no malice intended...But then the Commander had given an almost unspeakable order. From the back of the Roman ranks behind Anxious, several soldiers raised their hidden bows. With no hesitation whatsoever, they pulled back their arms and launched a volley of deadly arrows in a threatening arch toward the blond Gaul and the boy.

"Asterix! Look out!"

Asterix heard Obelix's shout just after the distinct sound of shafts whistling through the air reached his ears. He began to quicken his pace, pushing Picanmix faster, just before a sharp pain slammed into his body. The impact was tremendous, as if he had been hit by a full-grown tree. Only this pain wasn't confined to the perimeter of his skin. This pain reached deep inside, piercing into him with deadly force. He fell to the ground with a loud cry and a gasp, trying weakly to reach a hand to his back where the pain was concentrated. "AGH!"

"ASTERIX!" Obelix had watched with horror as the soldiers had taken aim and fired on his friends. It had almost seemed to him to be in slow motion. He stood in shock as he saw a shaft pierce his friend's back, bringing the little Gaul to his knees. Asterix's cry of pain snapped him out of his stupor, and before Obelix was even fully aware of what he was doing, he was thundering down the parapet steps like a madman. Grabbing an abandoned shield that had been left by the wallside, Obelix threw the gate open and charged outside.

Asterix's vision was blurry with pain. He wasn't sure exactly where he had been hit, but the fiery agony seemed to be all through him. It had to be in his back, but he couldn't reach it. The agony was almost unbearable. It burned in his mind, numbing his thinking. His understanding of what was happening was hazy and jumbled, but one underlying thought screamed at him from the mess of pain and fear in his mind. _Protect Picanmix!_ Even as he stumbled and fell to the ground he had attempted to shield the boy from the oncoming arrows.

Picanmix starred in horror at the arrow protruding from Asterix's back. He was unsure of what he should do. Asterix was in serious pain; blood was soaking into his black tunic, starting to pool beneath him. But even the child knew they couldn't stop out there in the open. Arrows of less skilled archers fell short of the two Gauls, or missed, but one would get lucky eventually. They couldn't stay out in the open. They had to get back into the safety of the village.

And so, the child took a hold of the barely conscious hero and started to try and shift him back toward the gate. Despite his small size, Asterix was surprisingly heavy. Picanmix struggled under his dead weight; his job made all the harder as Asterix refused to release the boy's arm. Even in his injured state, Asterix was more worried about Picanmix than himself. That spoke volumes to Picanmix, who continued to determinedly drag them forward.

A whistling filled their ears, and Picanmix looked up in fear as a well aimed arrow shuttled toward them. It was aimed for Asterix's heart, and there was no way to move out of the way in time. Asterix seemed to notice it too, and shielded Picanmix the best he could as he closed his eyes in anticipation of the incoming shaft.

CHING!

The metal tipped shaft was deflected as something large and round was suddenly thrust in front of them. The sound of the impact rang out loud in the surprised silence that followed. Even the Romans paused in their onslaught.

Blinking in bewilderment and pain, Asterix looked up at the shield that blocked his view of the enemy, and their view of him. His half-opened eyes followed the arm that held it there, coming to rest on a familiar face.

"Obe...Obelix?..."

Obelix had deflected the arrow.

The big Gaul shifted the shield to avert another shaft. His face was set in determination...and intense anger. His eyes gleamed with such hatred that Asterix felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He had _never_ seen Obelix like this. It was actually...frightening...But Asterix's fight with consciousness was quickly being lost, and he simply let himself fall back against his companion; exhausted.

Blocking a few more arrows, Obelix began to lift Picanmix; shifting him so that the boy ended up clinging to his back, leaving his hands free to hold the shield and tend to the injured Gaul. Then he carefully took Asterix into his enormous arm, producing a cry of pain from the little fellow as he picked him up from the dust-covered ground.

Obelix could feel Asterix suddenly go completely limp. The pain of being moved had finally caused him to pass out. Not that wasn't such a bad thing. It meant at least he wouldn't be any more pain for the moment. It made Obelix's moving him easier, both physically and emotionally. Obelix started moving backwards, step by step, using the now dented shield to protect both him and his friends. They were only a few meters from the gate, and Obelix knew that the villagers would meet them there to help him with the other two.

Finally he made it through the gates. Obelix carefully dumped Asterix and Picanmix into the waiting arms of the Gauls, before turning sharply to go back out to face the Romans. To his annoyance, the gates had already been slammed shut. Rounding on Vitalstitistix, he growled in an almost animalistic manner. "Open this door." His voice was low and dangerous. The way he stood, braced and tense, made him look frighteningly hostile.

Vitalstitistix held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Obelix-"

"Open this door!"

Fullautomatix stepped between the wrathful Gaul and his frightened chieftain. The blacksmith was, in truth, terrified. Obelix looked like he might actually pummel him, but Fullautomatix held his ground. "Obelix, listen, you can't go back out there! It's too- Ah!" Obelix had reached out and grabbed his arm, using his limb to roughly shove the blacksmith aside. His shout had been more of surprise than pain, though it had hurt. Obelix didn't know his own strength, and now that strength was powered by anger, making it even stronger.

"Obelix!" Fullautomatix was desperate now, holding his arm as he waited for his muscles to stop aching. "Don't do this!"

The big Gaul ignored him as he headed over to force the gate open himself.

This was bad! Obelix couldn't go out there; not only because the Romans might shoot him, but because Fullautomatix was suddenly afraid of what _Obelix_ might do. Not that the blacksmith wasn't feeling anger toward the Romans himself; they had no right to do what they had done. But he didn't want the big Gaul to do something that would come back to haunt him later. "What about Panacea?!" the blacksmith found himself shouting.

Obelix paused, hand frozen in a pose to break down the gate.

The blacksmith took his chance and continued. "If you go out there, the Romans will kill her!" His voice took on a pleading tone. "And what about Asterix?! He needs help! He didn't just get shot saving Picanmix so that you could go and get yourself killed!"

Obelix still stood facing the gate; his back to the villagers. They all watched anxiously, praying he would listen. Praying he wouldn't go out there again. The big Gaul's hands were balled into fists at his sides, quivering with barely contained rage. They had no idea what was going through his mind right now.

Obelix wasn't even sure. He felt so...so.._.so_ _hot_. Like he had a fever. Like he was burning up on the inside. He could almost feel the waves of fury coming off of him, warming his skin and blurring his vision. His mind was numb of all emotion...except anger. That he _could_ feel. He wanted to run out there and smash that monster; that smirking demon of a man! He needed to pay for what he had done! For hurting Cacofonix and Asterix...For hurting all of them! He'd send them all packing, and he didn't care what it might take to do so. Even if he had to-

"Obelix...please?" The plea came from Picanmix, who stood by his mother, watching anxiously. Even the child could see the foolishness of rushing back outside. They were all back where it was safe, why go back out?

There was a long silence as the boy's words hovered undisturbed in the tense atmosphere. Nobody moved, except for Impedimenta and some of the other women who were trying to stop the flow of blood coming from the unconscious Asterix's wound.

Suddenly Obelix turned, smashing his fist into a wooden cart that sat by the wallside. The villagers gasped and flinched back at the unexpected and unusually violent action. The cart was crushed beneath the angry blow, cracking and splintering like a dry twig. Such a punch would have shattered the hand of any other man, but Obelix wasn't even bruised.

Dogmatix gave a startled whine and backed away from his master in fear. The emotions he was sensing were frightening to the pup. The big Gaul was currently very dangerous in this strange state, and even Dogmatix knew that he could not comfort this pain. It was too strong.

Without another word, Obelix stomped forward, picked Asterix up with surprising gentleness, and headed in the direction of Getafix's hut as fast as his large frame permitted.

After a stunned silence, the villagers followed...at a distance.

...

At first, Spacious had been furious. The plan had been to _kill_ Asterix, not _wound_ him. Now he had lost the child, a valuable bargaining chip, and hadn't gained a thing.

There were a few benefits, he supposed though. Asterix _was_ injured. That would keep the little nuisance out of his way for a while. On the other hand, there was no way of knowing how badly Asterix had been hurt. For all the Commander knew, he could be perfectly fine. No, no. Spacious had seen the arrow hit its mark. Right in the back. If Asterix wasn't dying, he was definitely in very bad shape.

Spacious smirked to himself as he and his men made it back toward their camp in the forest.

The Gauls must be low on resources by this point. If Asterix's wound was as serious as it had looked, they would be helpless to save their friend. No one could recover from such an injury without proper medication. And with the Gaul's druid having little to no potions at the moment, the likelihood of Asterix surviving was greatly reduced.

And that brightened Spacious's mood considerably.

...

Bam! "Getafix!"

The druid turned from his conversation with Cacofonix as the door of his cottage was nearly thrown off its hinges. "Obelix, how many times have I told you to kno-" He broke off suddenly as his eyes fell on the limp form of Asterix clutched in a very pale Obelix's arms. "By Toutatis! What happened?!" He ran forward as Cacofonix carefully slid off the bed to make way for the new patient.

Getafix started to help Obelix set the injured Gaul onto the bed, but gasped when he spotted the arrow in Asterix's back. "Oh, no..."

In his anger and haste, Obelix had not noticed the shaft buried between his friend's shoulder blades. Finding the object frighteningly disturbing the way it was, he reached forward to try and pull it out. But Getafix stopped him.

"No! Don't touch it!" he cried, jerking the large Gaul's hand away from the arrow. He saw the fear flash in Obelix's eyes, and regretted his harsh command. "We shouldn't remove it until after we've made sure it isn't...lodged in anything important,'' he added, more softly.

The thought made Obelix feel sick.

"We don't want to hurt him more. Do you understand, Obelix?" The druid was relieved when the biggest Gaul nodded. "Good. Now help me lie him on his side so I can get a better look at the wound."

Carefully, they positioned Asterix on his right side. Obelix kept his hand against his friend's shoulder, to keep him from rolling over onto the arrow; but also to comfort himself. Asterix was his best friend. They did everything together. They were even born on the same day. Obelix firmly held on, as if he was afraid to let go, lest Asterix slip away from them forever.

Getafix carefully sat on the edge of the cot behind his injured friend. He raised his eyes to Obelix from beneath his bushy, white eyebrows. He took out a knife, explaining to the big Gaul what he planned to do. "I have to get his shirt off him. We can't just pull it over his head. I'm going to have to cut it loose. Alright?"

Again Obelix nodded. Getafix started to carefully remove the black fabric.

Fullautomatix and Unhygenix, who, along with the rest of the villagers, were standing in and around the doorway, flinched as a unpleasant memory surged to the front of their minds. Getafix had had to perform a similar procedure when Cacofonix had been injured in the fire. Luckily though, with Asterix the fabric had not been fused into his skin like it had with the bard, making it fairly easy to cut the material away.

Once the wound was fully visible, the druid set the blade to the side and leaned in to get a closer look. As he surveyed the damage he took in Asterix's overall appearance. The little Gaul was white as a sheet; the color having drained out of him, as was the dreadfully bright flow of blood that trickled down his back. His breathing was labored, and shallow, but at least he _was_ breathing.

The shaft itself looked terribly menacing; protruding from between Asterix's shoulder blades. In all rights, Getafix fearfully realized, it should have killed him instantly. But here Asterix was, unconscious, but still alive. Not that the druid was disappointed. Asterix was very special to Getafix...Asterix was special to everyone. To lose him like this would be...would be just too terrible to imagine...

But Asterix wasn't dead yet. And if Getafix had anything to do with it, he'd survive this. The only question was _how_ Asterix was still alive? How could the arrow hit him in the back without hitting something vital, like his lungs or his heart?

Then the druid noticed something odd. Something he nor anyone else had seemed to have noticed before. They had been to occupied with the injury on the Gaul's back to discover the growing red blotch on the front of Asterix's shoulder. Curious, Getafix ran his hand softly over the discolored area. Relief flooded his features as his hand gently snagged against something sharp. It was a miracle! There was no other way to describe it. Then the druid did something that surprised the others.

He laughed.

It was a shaky, nervous laugh. Like the kind when you realize just how close you had come from stepping off a fifty foot cliff while taking a stroll in the forest at night. Like they had somehow just barely avoided some horrible catastrophe. Getafix sat back against the backboard, running a shaky hand down his bearded face.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Unhygenix asked. The possibility that the druid was cracking under the pressure of the past few days was not far fetched. "Is Asterix going to-"

"He's going to be fine," Getafix cut in, releasing another odd chuckle. "He's going to be just fine."

Obelix looked down at his bleeding friend with skepticism. "Are you sure, Getafix? But what about th-"

"The arrow didn't hit anything. It hit at an angle, see?" The druid leaned forward again, indicating the wound on Asterix's upper arm. "It went in his back and up through his shoulder. It didn't hit anything but muscle."

Obelix looked up at Getafix, eyes wide with hope. "You mean...you mean, he's not going to die?"

The druid's face became more serious. "Well, he's still in danger of infection, and not to mention blood loss; but I think he'll pull through."

Vitalstitistix came closer, taking a tentative peek at the amount of blood that had soaked into the sheets of the cot. "Shouldn't we...ah...you know, patch him up? Before he looses any more...ah, blood?"

Getafix nodded. "Yes, indeed. But first we must remove the arrow." Again he ran his hand gently over Asterix's shoulder. "The barb of the shaft almost exited here, that's why his arm's bleeding. It didn't quite come all the way through, but it being so close to the surface will make extracting it a little easier." He shifted so that he was sitting a little straighter over Asterix. "Obelix, I'll need you to hold Asterix still." The druid glanced at the villagers gathered in his doorway and open window. "Vitalstitistix, it might be wise for the women and children to leave. In fact, it'd be better if only a few stayed to help."

The chieftain paled, but nodded. He gestured for the people to disperse. "Go home and rest. We'll keep you all informed on Asterix's condition."

A moment later, most of the population had left. The only ones who remained was Unhygenix, Fullautomatix, and Vitalstitistix. They felt it was their duty to stay and help, even if it wasn't exactly...comfortable.

Vitalstitistix stepped forward. "What can we do to help, Getafix?"

"I'll need you three to fetch clean water, some material for bandages, and a cloth for cleansing the wound. Obelix and I will handle the arrow."

The three Gauls nodded and swiftly left for the requested items. Cacofonix, who had also remained, sitting in the corner, watched nervously.

Getafix motioned for Obelix to hold Asterix down. "Grip him firmly, Obelix. He's probably going to squirm when I push the arrow through."

"Push it through?!"

The druid sighed. "Obelix, it's the only way to get it out of him. We can't pull it out the way it went in; the barb would cause even more damage. If I can push it through, I can snap the shaft, and then we can safely pull it out."

Obelix felt sick. But if that was what had to be done to save Asterix, he'd do it. Gripping his friend's body firmly, but not too tightly, Obelix gave Getafix a resolute acknowledgement.

The druid took a deep, steadying breath and took hold of the shaft in Asterix's back. He closed his eyes and then gave a sharp, sudden push.

"AGH!"

The shriek was accompanied by Asterix trying to roll off the bed, kicking and flailing in an attempt to get away. He was still partially unconscious, but after a moment he became limp, the pain having plunged him into senselessness once again. But those few moments had been sufficient to properly startle all present.

Cacofonix had gone even paler, if that was at all possible. He gripped the fabric of his tunic in his fists as he stared wide-eyed. Getafix too had become frighteningly white. However, it was Obelix who looked the most affected. He had managed to keep Asterix pressed against the bed, despite his writhing, but his hands now shook with...with...he didn't know what. Fear? Anger? He was upset; that was for sure. But the arrow's barbed tip was through. It now protruded from the front of Asterix's shoulder.

Getafix inhaled shakily. "Alright, here we go." He again took the shaft in his hands. To tell the truth, he hadn't been expecting Asterix to scream. That had shaken him right to his core. Now all he had to do was snap the arrow and pull it out. But he hesitated. He didn't want to hurt his friend again. He didn't want to ever hear a shriek like that again. Not from Asterix; not from anybody.

But Asterix was losing blood fast, and that was bad. They had to get this over with. The faster the better. Closing his eyes again, the druid bent the shaft.

SNAP!

He sighed when Asterix didn't respond in any way. The little Gaul was out cold this time. Too deep within his unconsciousness to feel anything. As quickly as he could, Getafix withdrew the arrow, slipping it out of his friend without any trouble, just as Vitalstitistix, Fullautomatix, and Unhygenix returned with the things he had asked for.

Together they managed to clean the wound, and wrap it securely. Asterix still looked terrible, but his breathing had evened out, and didn't sound quite so shallow.

As they finished, Getafix noticed that Fullautomatix was holding his arm at an odd angle. Stepping forward, he reached out to inspect it. "What happened?" he asked, gesturing to the limb.

Obelix raised his head, watching guiltily when he too noticed the stiff way Fullautomatix was holding himself.

"Oh, ah," the blacksmith stuttered, looking down at his aching arm. "It's nothing. Just a pulled muscle I guess."

"Let me see it."

"Oh...er..." But before he could pull back, Getafix was inspecting his shoulder and wrist carefully.

"Hmm. Yes, it does appear to be a pulled muscle." The druid didn't notice Obelix's face fill with even more guilt. "I can give you a sling if you'd like?"

Fullautomatix shook his head with a smile. He sent a forgiving glance to Obelix over the druid's shoulder. "No, it's alright. It was an accident...Everything's alright now." Obelix returned the blacksmith's gaze with a thankful smile of his own; glad that Fullautomatix didn't have any hurt feelings toward him after his burst of aggression earlier. Obelix was just happy Asterix was alive. He was alright. He would live.

But what would happen now?

**...**

**I did it! Whoohoo! Two full chapters in two days! It wasn't easy, but I managed to get all my studying for the weekend finished so that I could write and post again. Make up for the interval between chapters before. Hope you like it! :) **


	14. Discovery

The next two days came and went with very little excitement. And very little progress. The Gauls only had two more days left. Two more days before they either had to surrender or...or Panacea would die. No one had a clue what to do. They still felt just as trapped as they had when the whole mess started. As the doomsday came closer and closer, they could feel their panic growing. Especially Soporifix. The fatherly Gaul had seemed to age considerably. Dark bags shaded beneath his eyes; a testimony to the long hours of sleepless nights that plagued him. He also seemed incredibly frail and thin.

Of course, everyone was beginning to take on that underfed look. Food was now incredibly low. A few fish were caught then and again, near the back of the village where the wall met the sea. But that was hardly enough to support an entire village. They had resorted to giving what they had to the children. The only exception being Cacofonix and Asterix, who were in desperate need of the nourishment.

Cacofonix was a good deal better than he had been. He was still shaky, and weak, but he was moving about more easily. He even managed to take a short, slow walk outdoors. It was the first time in what felt like ages since he had stepped out into the warm rays of the sun and taken a breath of clear, summer air. He was starting to regain his color back, much to everyone's relief. Even his side was almost completely healed. No scars or burns remained on his skin, which pleased everyone, though it did leave them puzzled at his miraculous recovery.

Asterix was an even greater mystery. He had woken up the night of the same day he had been shot, conscious and fully aware of where he was. He had been in a great deal of pain, but that was to be expected. After all, you didn't just jump out of bed right after being wounded by an arrow. But to everyone's surprise, Asterix began healing at an incredible rate. Even faster than Cacofonix had. The day after the incident, Asterix had actually gotten off his cot, much to Getafix's annoyance. Asterix was able to take a few steps before wearing himself out and returning to bed at the druid's insistence. The little Gaul wasn't completely healed; not by a long shot; but Getafix found himself more and more perplexed by the speed at which the injuries were cured. Without any potion, the rate of their improvement was unheard of; unbelievable even.

But if Getafix had learned anything from living in the small Gaulish village, it was to expect the unbelievable. These people were unique; special. The strangest of the strange always happened to them. The oddest of the odd; the most irregular incidents; and, lately, the most unfortunate of luck. But the druid was a curious man. He didn't like to just sit back and observe, accepting one phenomenon after another. He wanted to know _why_. Why were the Gauls so quick-healing? There had to be an explanation. All he had to do was find it.

And find it he did.

He observed his two patients closely, running through every possible solution. And only one solution fit. The magic potion. It had to be. Years of ingesting the elixir had somehow gotten into the Gauls' blood. It was the only explanation. The healing power of the mixture must have found its way into the bloodstream, which more than accounted for their remarkable recovery.

At first, Getafix was concerned. He was afraid that the potion may have had some negative effects as well; after all, most potions had side effects, just like many medicines. But his fears were put at rest when he remembered that that particular potion was unique in that it had no such problems. Getafix, many years before, when he was much younger, had worked hard to produce the magic potion so that it would be free of any serious aftereffects. He had even managed to create a version that was nonaddictive. That had turned out to be a very wise precaution. Otherwise the Gauls would _all_ be suffering greatly now, in the throws of the potion's withdrawals. Going without potion was merely a disadvantage, not a obsessive need.

Having the magic potion in their blood was accounting for their fast healing. It was a blessing that had been overlooked for years. None of them had ever gone without the potion for this long a time. And anytime someone had been injured, the potion had always been one of the first pain relievers Getafix had given them. But, at least as far back as the druid could recall, no one had ever been left to heal without the potion; so its permanent effect on them had never been apparent. Now they saw the strength it gave, and how fast and efficient it mended their wounded friends. And it gave them just a little more hope.

But just a little.

...

Anxious stood at attention, guarding the prisoner. At least, that's what it looked like he was doing. Back straight and eyes facing forward; to anyone else he would appear to be completely devoted to his post. But Panacea had learned otherwise. Whenever his fellow guards were out of earshot, the Roman would converse with her in a low tone. Still looking as though he were maintaining his steadfast and properly unfeeling watch, he kept her company and tried to allay her fears.

And her fears were growing. The past few days had gone by in a whirl. She knew they were running out of time. There were only two more days left. And, at the moment, the situation looked hopeless. Depression and intense anxiety gnawed at her soul, leaving her feeling empty and cold.

Especially since Asterix had been shot.

It was the worst thing she could ever have imagined happening. Asterix was almost the very symbol of the village's strength. It's emblem of defiance against Caesar's rule of tyranny. And Spacious had cut him down with an arrow. The coward! Hiding behind his wicked lies! Cringing behind the weapons of his own soldiers while Asterix took the blow; all alone and unprotected! And now Asterix was hurt, maybe even dead...and her last glimmer of hope had faded. If Asterix was down...who could save them?

Anxious was equally conflicted. He had watched in horror as his Commander had given the order to break his truce with Asterix. Oh, there _had_ been a truce. Even if it had never actually been put into words. Spacious had offered the boy back safely. _That_ was an assurance; a promise. Spacious had said so, and a man's word was supposed to be his bond. Any honorable man, that is. But Commander Spacious was no honorable man.

Again the kindly Roman was haunted by images of their first attack on the village. The catapult; the fire. _Panacea's scream_. The guilt was almost unbearable. And now, added to that guilt, was the knowledge that his Commander had possibly killed another one of the woman's close friends. _His _Commander. _His_ superior officer. _His_ regiment._ His_ people. It was almost like he himself had shot the arrow that lodged into the small, blond Gaul's back. How could Panacea ever forgive him?...How could his family back home ever forgive him?

But Panacea did forgive him. In fact, she didn't blame him at all in the first place. In her eyes, his participation was strictly duty, and he hadn't even really had a choice. He hadn't fired the arrows or the catapult. In her eyes, he was innocent. He comforted her, talked to her, even when doing so was putting his life on the line. He snuck her food whenever possible, and made sure the other guards kept their distance. If anyone in this horrible place was her friend, it was him.

Panacea shifted slightly in her place sitting in the warm grass. She hated being stuck in one spot for too long, almost as much as Anxious hated keeping her there. Her legs had fallen asleep on more than one occasion, but she really didn't tend to that discomfort much. Her mind was occupied with other problems.

"D-do you think he's alright?"

Her whispered question caught Anxious off guard. Trying to remain as motionless as possible, he whispered back. "Who? Asterix?"

Panacea nodded.

Anxious's eyes filled with sadness. He wanted more than anything to say that he was sure her friend was fine, but somehow, that just didn't seem possible. "He...he was shot in the back...That's pretty serious." Panacea's face darkened, and he felt his heart fill with guilt again. Why couldn't he say anything positive to her?! He was too truthful. That's what it all came down too. He was just too honest. But he knew he couldn't be anything else. He couldn't give her false hopes. Not for them to only be dashed shortly after. And he was almost certain they would be. No one could survive a injury like that. An arrow in the back was _very_ serious. "But you have a druid in your village...Perhaps he can save your friend." There. That was a little more helpful. It wasn't a lie, and it was more encouraging than anything else he could think of at the moment.

Panacea shook her head slowly. He wasn't sure if she was disagreeing, or simply shaking her head in sadness. "I hope so."

Her words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them. They were filled with remorse and grief. Not a spark of her usual brightness remained. It had been knocked out of her. All her optimism was gone. All hope abandoned. And he had no idea how to help. More then anything, he wanted to stop this whole mess. These people didn't deserve what they had done to them. Panacea didn't deserve it. No one did. Why couldn't they just leave them alone? Why did Caesar have to expand his cursed empire?

Anxious blanched inside at his own thoughts. Such beliefs would be considered treachery to Caesar. Betrayal. But, at the moment, Anxious meant every word of it. He wanted to find a way to help Panacea and her friends. Find a way to fix all their problems. He knew what they were doing was wrong. It was more than wrong. It was cruel. It was evil.

So why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he stepping up? Why wasn't he fighting for what he knew was right? He had asked himself the same question over and over the last few days, and he always came up with the same answer.

His family.

If he went against Caesar's orders, he would lose them. His wife, his parents, and any chance of ever having a child of his own. Traitors were dealt with in Rome in a terrible manner. He would be thrown to the lions for sure. And his family would either follow, or be sold into slavery. He...he couldn't allow that to happen. He _couldn't. _He wanted to help...but his fear for those he loved kept him in his place. He couldn't go against Caesar.

"ANXIOUS!"

The familiar bellow reached the pair as Panacea's least favorite guard rounded the corner. He was such a large man, she was actually surprised he didn't scare her more than he did. He often insulted her, and taunted her, making her life generally miserable, but he never touched her. Never. Never laid a hand on her. No one did. In fact, they seamed to shy away from her, as if they were afraid to come in contact with her. Except Anxious, who had touched her shoulder once. She found that odd, but figured that Spacious had probably ordered his men to leave her be. For that, and _only_ that, she was grateful.

The large guard stomped toward them, dwarfing them with his immense height and girth. "You're watch is over," he stated flatly to Anxious, giving Panacea a hateful glare. "Report to the Commander's tent to report."

Anxious nodded nervously, inching away to escape the threatening shadow of his comrade-in-arms. After a moment, he was gone; leaving Panacea with the frowning brute she always got stuck with. He gave her one last glare before taking his place by the fireside; standing straight and menacing, gripping his spear to ward off any possible escapes on her part.

Panacea liked Anxious's company much better.

...

Anxious was feeling...anxious. He did _not_ feel like being in Commander Spacious's presence at the moment. Not with all the guilt and anger he was suppressing. It was so strong, he wondered if anyone else could hear his thoughts. Feel his feelings. An irrational fear that Spacious somehow suspected his treachery, made his knees knock together. He felt transparent. An open book for all to read. It made him pause uneasily just before the closed flap of his Commander's tent.

He mustn't let his anxiety show. He had to keep himself under control. His family's life depended on it. His life depended on it.

Pushing through the tent material, he snapped to attention just inside the door with a crisp, "Reporting, as requested, Sir!" He was actually surprised at how strong his voice sounded, and at how effectively he had executed his Roman salute, hand raising at an upward angle in front of him, palm down. His perfect gesture, however, was lost on the quiet atmosphere of the empty tent. Commander Spacious was not there.

Scratching his head in confusion, Anxious glanced around him, and even behind him, back out through the folds of the canvas, checking to see if the Commander was anywhere in sight. He wasn't.

_He must have stepped out to do something_, he concluded, returning to his previous position. He would wait, standing at attention, until the Commander returned. That was what he was supposed to do. What he had to do.

As he stood waiting, he let his eyes wonder over the tents furnishings. It was very luxurious compared to his own humble tent. His was practically bare, except the bed roll that he slept on and the armor he wore. This...This was like the home of a god! The warm daylight streamed in through the tent's colorful fabric, giving the whole room a golden, reddish glow. A desk, carved and adorned with all manner of intricate designs, sat on top of multiple woven rugs that lay on the ground, imported from some far off land. Pillows of purple and blue were carefully placed in the corner, by the fancy bed, where the Commander slept. Fruit and other ripe delicacies overflowed from a golden bowl beside the mattress, causing Anxious to suddenly feel very hungry.

A lantern was burning, hanging from a crossbeam on the roof, burning even in the daytime, a credit to Spacious's obvious wealth. Many other marvelous trinkets and baubles hung, sat, or peeked from every corner. It was truly the tent of a rich man.

Anxious gave a sigh, before letting his eyes wander back over to the desk. It was the most uncluttered place in the whole structure. Only a single candle, next to an ink well and feather adorned its surface. That, and an assortment of papers, some blank, others used.

He was about to return his gaze to the fruit bowl, when something caught his eye.

It was a letter, half buried under the other parchments, but even then, Anxious could see the seal that peeked out from beneath the papers. Caesar's seal. Curious, but very cautious, Anxious looked around and behind himself once more, before shifting so that he could see what the letter said. He had to lift the paper on top of it, which he did carefully, not wanting his tampering to be discovered.

It was just as he had thought. It was a latter from their great leader. But something about it struck Anxious as strange. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something wasn't right about it. And so, taking one last nervous glance toward the tent flaps, he began to read the gracefully written words.

_To Commander Spacious, greetings from the house of the illustrious Caesar and his court,_

_We have considered your request to attack the indomitable Gauls, and it has been decreed by almighty Caesar, that we deny your request. The Gauls have been a problem true, but our leader has deemed their past assistance deserving a temporary truce. It is in the Empire's best interest to stay clear of these savages, until a more appropriate time. For our leader is not a monster. He leads us with divine truth and wisdom.  
_

_Your request to abolish the Gauls is currently denied. You will leave them be. As for your weapon you speak of, it is yet to be tested. We advise that it be put on hold. Again, for the best interest of our mighty Empire._

_Vale, et nuntium portans bonum,*_

_Ave, Caesar!_

It was signed with a collection of fancy signatures in the bottom right-hand corner, along with Caesar's imperial seal; formalizing the letter to the max. Anxious felt his mind whirl in confusion as the meaning of the words sank in.

Request denied? Refused by Caesar himself? A cold feeling of horror began to crawl up the soldier's chest. This couldn't be right...could it? The commander wouldn't go so far as to...but here was the proof. In his hands he held the sighed word of Caesar himself. It couldn't be anything else. What Spacious was doing had been forbidden by Caesar! The whole attack had been against their leader's word. They were fighting an off-limits battle; laying siege where they had been banned to go! And the soldiers didn't even know it! They were being held to this attack when there was nothing to hold them to! It was illegal! It was treachery! The Commander had lied to them all; tricking them into fighting a war that Caesar himself had denied him!

The mere thought of what the letter entailed made Anxious feel sick. He had been participating in attacking the Gauls, thinking he had no choice, when, in fact, he _did_ have a choice! No one had to stay; no one had to continue! What the Commander was doing was criminal! They could all go home! All Anxious had to do was tell the others...Suddenly his joy was suppressed by a terrible thought.

_No one is going to believe this._

Anxious was considered a whimpering coward amongst his own people. In their minds, he was dirt. Even if what he had to say was important; even if they _wanted_ to hear it, they wouldn't believe him. If he stood up against Spacious, he'd be sure to lose. The Commander had a way of controlling his men through fear. Those he couldn't frighten, he bribed. And those he couldn't bribe, were never seen again. He would win. And Anxious's life wouldn't be worth one denarius*.

Suddenly, Anxious heard voices approaching the tent. He quickly set the letter back in its place among the parchments, slightly covered, and hurried back to the center of the room. He barely made it back into position just as Spacious entered the room.

"Ah, good," the Commander thrummed, coming to stand in front of his soldier. "Name?"

"Anxious, Sir." Anxious felt as though his heart was beating so hard the Commander would surely hear it. He wanted to run away. He wanted to figure out what to do. He was following the orders of a madman; he was certain of it! Who else but a lunatic would disobey Caesar? Who else would brutishly attack harmless villagers; men, women, and children? Launch balls of flame at innocent peoples' homes? Threaten a little boy and shoot men in the back?!

"Well," Spacious grinned that same sickening smile that Anxious had seen him direct toward his victims. "_Anxious_, I want your report on the prisoner."

Anxious raised an eyebrow. Why had the Commander chosen to ask _him_? He wasn't the only guard who was guarding Panacea. He wasn't even one of the higher ranking officers. Heck, he was just a foot soldier! "Ah, well, sh-she hasn't been much trouble. E-especially since...the other day." He tried to keep his emotions out of his voice. "She's become v-very quiet."

"Hmm. Indeed." Spacious walked over to the bowl of fruit, snatching up a bunch of grapes. He pulled one off, popping it into his mouth carelessly. "Very good." He sent the soldier a dismissive glance. "You may go."

Anxious inwardly sighed in relief. Giving another, less perfect salute, he turned and quickly made his way for the exit. He wanted nothing more than get away from his Commander.

"One more thing."

_Oh, no_...

Spacious looked him in the eyes, a threatening expression showing in his face. "I have heard reports that you have been...conversing with the prisoner."

Anxious felt his heart stop.

The Commander picked up an apple, studying it evenly. "Not a good move, you know. I distinctly gave the order that you should have as little social contact with that woman as possible. Did I not?"

The smaller Roman swallowed nervously. "Yes, Sir," he breathed, his voice sounding frightened in his own ears.

Spacious gave him a steady glare. "Then I expect my orders to be followed." The eyes narrowed. "Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Good." The Commander tossed the apple and Anxious caught it clumsily. "Obey me, Soldier, and you'll live a long, happy life. I reward my friends handsomely. My enemies I crush. See that you remember that."

It was the threat, shrouded in bribery...or maybe the other way around. Anxious was walking on thin ice, and he knew it. If the Commander really knew how much social contact he had been having with the prisoner...he was sure Spacious would kill him then and there. And if the Commander knew he had read the letter...

"Yes, Sir. I-I'll remember."

"Good. Get out."

Anxious left as quickly as his shaking legs permitted. His heart was pounding wildly, and his head was such a storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions he felt dizzy and lightheaded. He didn't know what to do!

He headed into the forest, trying to gather his thoughts.

What Spacious was doing was wrong. Not only by Anxious's moral standards, but by law. He couldn't let this continue. But it had to be handled in a way that didn't get him and the Gauls killed. It was time to step forward. He was done with the bloodshed. Done with the guilt. Spacious needed to be stopped. Fear was the only thing holding him back, and Anxious pushed it aside. No. This was it. The final straw. He was going to fight this...but he was going to need help...

Anxious waited until dark, before making his way carefully and undetected toward the Gaulish village.

**...**

***"Farewell and good tidings"**

*** An ancient Roman silver coin.**


	15. Time Runs Short

Obelix hadn't left Asterix's side since the incident.

Sure, Asterix was alive, and sure he was healing up just fine; but, in truth, Obelix was afraid to leave him. It wasn't that he was afraid his friend's health would plummet expectantly, or even that anything unfortunate would happen in the confines of Getafix's hut at all. No, that wasn't what he was worried about. What Obelix was worried about was Asterix's own stubbornness.

...

_A day ago..._

Asterix hated being stuck in bed. _Hated_ it. He didn't like feeling helpless and weak. He disliked all the attention, though he did appreciate what the others had done to save him. But his mind was still uneasy. After all, just because Picanmix was back safely in the village didn't mean that everything was all right. Panacea was still out there; trapped in the grasp of a lunatic. He couldn't rest; not even now. Asterix might have been injured, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He had a job to do. People were counting on him.

It was late morning, he could tell by the soft, warm light trickling in through the windows of Getafix's hut. It was the kind of morning that calls to you; making you want to go outside and breath in the richness of the coming day.

Asterix suddenly threw the covers off himself, sliding his legs over the side of the cot with a wince. Obelix, who had just started to drift off, sitting on a nearby bench, became alert at once. He stood up anxiously when he saw his friend struggling to get to his shaky feet, the look on Asterix's face clearly trying to hide just how much it hurt to move.

"Asterix, I really think you should stay in bed," Obelix warned, fiddling distractedly with his large fingers. He always seemed to forget that it would take close to nothing to snatch his friend up in his strong grasp and force him back to bed. But for some reason, the thought never entered his mind. Asterix shrugged him off gently. He wasn't going to let Commander Spacious think he was out of commission, just because of a little arrow.

"Obelix, I can't stay in bed; not with what's been happening. I need to get back out there, before things get worse. I've got to do something." The blond Gaul took a few tentative steps. It was his first attempt at any motion since he'd been shot. Though he had been regained consciousness the night before, much to everyone's relief. Getafix had told him then about his new discovery regarding the magic potion."Besides," Asterix muttered distractedly, "Getafix said that the potion is causing my wound to heal at a very fast rate. I'm fine."

"No, Asterix, you are _not_." The voice came from the back doorway, where a fairly unhappy Getafix stood, arms crossed and scowling. His glare almost made Asterix want to crawl under a rock somewhere. It was such a hard look;like the ones the druid used to give them when they were little, and had done something foolish. Asterix seriously began to wonder whether he had made an error in even trying to get up.

The little Gaul began pleading his case at once. "But Getafix, you yourself said that we have the magic potion in our blood. It strengthens us. I'm feeling much better already. There's no reas-"

"There's a perfectly good reason, actually," the druid interrupted, crossing over and taking his arm to escort his patient back to bed. "You were hit by an _arrow_. In the _back_. You lost a lot of _blood_. Therefore, you are suffering from _blood loss_." He took Asterix by his uninjured shoulder, gently, but forcefully, making him sit on the mattress. He looked into his friend's eyes with annoyance, but Asterix thought he caught a small glimmer of amusement in the druid's face. "And I did _not_ say that the potion gives you strength, Asterix. I simply said that it appears to speed up the healing process. That doesn't automatically make you well."

"But Getafix-" His voice trailed off miserably.

The druid helped the small man back under the covers, taking note when Asterix tried to hide the pain the movement caused. He shook his head at his friend's downcast expression. "Asterix, what are we going to do with you? You think that every responsibility to protect us is yours."

"...Isn't it?"

Getafix smiled sadly. "In most cases it might be. You're our village warrior; it's your job." His smile faded. "But I _don't_ think that job entails you hurting yourself further by pushing your limits."

"But-"

"Let us take care of the responsibility, Asterix. Just this once."

Asterix still didn't feel any better. He couldn't help thinking that he had no right to rest when Panacea's life, and the fate of the whole village was in danger. But Getafix was right. It wasn't like he was the only one who could find a solution to the problem. He wasn't that remarkable. The others were perfectly capable of coming up with something. And he was so very tired... Must be all the blood he lost, like Getafix had said. But Asterix, as much as he trusted his friends and believed in them, couldn't shake the uneasiness he felt about sitting back and letting them handle it alone. He didn't like not being in control. Which was why he hated this whole disaster. No matter how hard he tried; no matter how far he pushed himself, he just couldn't seem to get control of the situation. Everything was slowly spinning out of his control...or maybe it was just the room? Why was he suddenly so dizzy...?

"There, you see," Getafix grumbled, noticing the way Asterix had closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his head. "That's what happens when you try to get your body going before it's ready." He started his way back out of the room, heading for the way he had come in. "Now, I want you to get some rest. The sooner you do as I say, the sooner you'll heal. I'm going back outside to help Cacofonix. He's trying to stretch some usefulness back into his arms and legs. He's terribly tense after all the time he spent cooped up indoors." As he passed a still very agitated Obelix he commented, "Don't let him out of that bed, Obelix. He needs his rest. We don't want him hurting himself any more." And with that, the druid left.

And Obelix _did_ watch Asterix. Because he was afraid.

...

_Now..._

Obelix watched his friend sleeping peacefully on the old cot in the corner. He was glad Asterix had finally fallen asleep. The little Gaul was getting the rest he had so badly needed, even before he'd been injured. He was very pale, almost white, but Getafix had assured Obelix that it was because of the amount of blood Asterix had lost, and that he would soon regain his normal color. That made Obelix feel a little bit better, but not much.

Asterix's chest rose and fell steadily; a blessing compared to the restless events of the night before. Asterix had definitely been having nightmares, of that Obelix was certain. The small Gaul had tossed and turned all night, sleeping shallowly, muttering and gasping then and again. But that hadn't been the worst part, at least in Obelix's eyes. The worst was whenever Asterix would cry out in pain, effectively jarring the bigger Gaul from his sleep. Asterix's constant irritation often led to him turning over onto his wound, prompting a sharp inhale and a weak shout. That was the worst thing for Obelix. It only reminded him of Asterix's shriek when he had been shot. When Obelix had been too far away to protect him.

The cries had awakened Getafix as well, and the druid was forced to leave his bed to try and calm his patient...and Obelix, who was so upset that he was almost in need of more comforting then Asterix. Getafix succeeded in both cases, getting both men situated for the night once more before heading back in the direction of his own bed. He had stopped by the opposite corner to check on Cacofonix as well.

The bard was in pretty good shape, considering what he'd been through. Most of his sick, pale look had left him, though he still wasn't completely healed. The druid surmised another few days before Cacofonix could officially be called cured. For now the bard was sleeping on an extra cot donated by one of the villagers, and Getafix was glad to see that Asterix's mutterings and cries had not awakened him.

Even now, in the early morning light coming through the windows, Cacofonix and Asterix slept silently, while Obelix sat; thinking.

Yes, Obelix was glad Asterix was resting, but he also half hoped his friend would wake up. The quiet was deafening, and the large Gaul found himself wishing for Asterix to sit up and tell him everything was alright. That the last several days had all just been a bad dream. That Asterix and Cacofonix had never been hurt. That Panacea wasn't being held captive...But it wasn't alright. Those things had happened; were happening. And now tomorrow marked the end of the week. Tomorrow was when everything would come to a head. Time was almost up.

And they still had no idea of what to do.

Suddenly Obelix was glad Asterix was still asleep. If Asterix knew how bad things were now, no matter what Obelix did, the large Gual was sure Asterix would refuse to stay in bed any longer. And Obelix didn't want to have to force him.

Oh, sure Vitalstitistix and the others had tried to come up with a plan. They had tried very hard, in fact. But every idea; every possible scenario, ended in losing someone, if not everyone to a tragic disaster. Food was almost nonexistent. They were starving. Their spirits were crushed beyond repair. Soporifix had become so stricken with grief he had all but shut down completely. There was no way out of this. Nothing could save them now...

"Mr. Obelix?" The voice was so small, Obelix almost missed hearing it. Turning in his seat, the biggest Gaul spotted Picanmix peeking shyly in through the druid's front door. "May...may I come in?"

It wasn't really his place to say, but Obelix knew that Getafix wouldn't mind. He nodded and the child made his way slowly into the hut.

Picanmix looked very nervous. He was wringing his hands, eyes wide and fixed on the still figure in the bed beside Obelix. "Is he...alright?" His voice shook audibly, and it was a wonder he could speak at all. In his voice Obelix detected more then just a hopeful question. It was more like a _need_. A need to know that Asterix was going to be alright. It was something Obelix hadn't expected to hear in that soft, little voice, and it caught his attention at once.

"Yeah," he found himself answering. "Getafix said he'll be fine."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. They both just stood, or in Obelix's case, sat, staring at Asterix's still form. It was a moment or two before Picanmix spoke again. And when he did, Obelix felt his throat tighten painfully.

"I'm sorry. Th-this is all my fault..."

Those little words held so much remorse and pain, Obelix almost cried. They felt so familiar. They held the same emotions he had been feeling; steadily growing stronger. Grief. Anger. Sadness. But most of all, _guilt_. And even if Obelix couldn't forgive himself for letting Asterix get hurt, he wouldn't allow the same feeling to course through someone so young.

"It's not your fault, Picanmix."

"But it _is_!" the boy burst into tears. He rubbed his little fists into his eyes, softly pouring out his heart. "If I hadn't gone outside the gate; if I had just stayed here, Asterix wouldn't have been hurt!" He cried harder, not meeting the large Gaul's gaze.

Dogmatix, who up to this time had been sitting quietly beside his master, gave a gentle whine. Looking up at Obelix, he tried to sense the emotions that seemed to be crowding the air lately. Obelix still held that hint of intense anger; which still frightened the pup terribly. But that anger was overlayed with worry at the moment, dulling it. In fact, the feelings Dogmatix was sensing from his master were almost identical to those emanating from the child. Sadness. Self-blame. Fear.

Obelix watched Picanmix cry for a moment, unsure of what to do. He didn't know Picanmix as well as he knew some of the other villagers, and he wasn't all that used to dealing with kids, despite his almost child-like nature. Asterix was better at that. But he had a big heart, and he knew when someone was in need of comfort. It was one of his best qualities.

Getting up, the big Gaul stepped forward and enveloped the child in a gentle hug. There was a moment's delay before Picanmix latched onto him as though he though letting go would bring the sky crashing down on his head.

It's amazing what a hug can accomplish. Sometimes, when everything seems to be falling apart, and everything seems to be against us, the simple gesture can release all the tension; all the built up emotion and bottled-up despair. Sometimes it's all we need. Just that one thing. It might not get rid of the problem; not even a little. But, sometimes; somehow, it makes it all a little bit more bearable.

...

Outside, the villagers were just beginning to leave their huts for the morning. Not that they had anything to do. Even the simple routine of eating breakfast had been robbed from them. A feeling of doom hung in the air. A sense of inevitable destruction. One day was all they had left. _One day_...

Fullautomatix sat on a rock by the sea. It seemed so calm; so serene. So unlike their own aching hearts. He had always loved this side of the village. Caressing the water's shore. A window to freedom; to the world outside. But they didn't even have enough boats to make an escape. Not all of them, anyway. And they would never dream of leaving anyone behind. That included Panacea. If one went down...they'd all go down.

Fullautomatix sighed, looking up at the gulls that flew overhead. He had never felt so conflicted in his life. His mind felt jumbled and almost slow; sluggish. Like he couldn't think straight. Hopelessness has a way of doing that. Making everything seem meaningless. Empty.

A sudden sound made the blacksmith turn to look to his left. What he saw made him freeze. Not in terror; not really in anger or any other emotion. He just watched, unmoving. Shocked maybe.

He watched as a Roman, coughing and soaked from the ocean's salty waters, stumbled up onto the shore. He seemed to have swallowed a large amount of the stuff, hacking and sputtering as he finally made it up onto the sand. The Roman looked exhausted. But that wasn't too surprising, seeing as he had been struggling against the tide fully attired in armor; a major error on his part. Heavy metal and water don't mix. Not at all.

Fullautomatix snapped out of his strange shock, finally coming to life as he jumped up and raced toward the possible intruder. That was all they needed. More trouble. "Hey! You!"

Anxious looked up in surprise. He hadn't seen the Gaul; probably because he had been too occupied with trying to keep himself from drowning to notice him. Now he took in the heavily built man rushing toward him and gulped.

This was a risky move, and he knew it...

**...**

**I am officially on CHRISTMAS BREAK! 32 days of beautiful, sweet freedom lay before me! I WILL finish this story now!**

**Here's another chapter. Let me know if it is easily follow-able and makes sense please, because I did a little time jumping back and forth. Just a little bit. Let me know if it isn't too confusing or anything. THANKS!**


	16. Trust

Anxious felt like a man standing in the middle of Caesar's arena. That was the only way he could describe it. The only thing he could think of that even came close to the anxiety he was feeling. He had known it was a risky move; waltzing into the Gaul's village, after what his people had done to them. But it was the only way he could think of that might give this whole fiasco a happy ending. It had to be done. The Gauls _would_ help...if they didn't kill him first. Oh, they hadn't hurt him...yet. In fact, they were a little more receptive toward him then he had expected, considering the situation.

Fullautomatix, the blacksmith who had met him on the beach, had approached him with nervous tension. And Anxious couldn't blame him. Even if the Roman knew that he would never hurt them; _could_ never hurt them; he had to remember that the Gauls knew _nothing_ about him. He was a stranger. An enemy. And in order to gain their help, he'd first have to gain their trust.

The blacksmith brought him into the village, where a crowd soon gathered. At first, they congratulated Fullautomatix, thinking the man had captured an 'enemy spy'. When the blacksmith explained that the Roman had simply swam up onto the shore, their triumph turned to puzzlement. Then anger. In fact, Anxious still wasn't quite sure what might have happened if a tall, bearded man, clothed in white, had not stepped in on his behalf.

"What is your name, Roman?" he asked, and Anxious suddenly realized he was being addressed by none other then the village druid himself. He was surprise to see just how old he looked. For some reason, Anxious had expected someone a little younger. More sinister; like the seers back in Rome. This man was wizened; fatherly. Calm and collected, even when everything around him was crumbling.

"Anxious, Sir."

The old man nodded, a look somewhere between curiosity and uneasiness shifting across his features. He was obviously trying to decide what to do about their newcomer. He didn't look like the type to hold a grudge, no matter the offence, but even druids could get angry. What Anxious's people had done to the Gauls was, in many people's eyes, unforgivable. Whether the druid was one of those people, Anxious didn't know. He hoped not. "And why have you come to us?"

Good. The druid knew he had come willingly. "I came to help you."

That statement was met by multiple whoops and jeers from the crowd. They didn't believe him, just as Anxious had suspected they wouldn't. It had been a wild idea really. Why would his enemies; no, his _victims_, believe a single word he said? It was ridiculous. He saw that now.

"What do you mean?" the druid asked, an eyebrow raising slightly. Anxious found himself surprised at the sincere interest in the man's voice.

"I'm a friend of Panacea. I want to help save her, as well as get rid of Commander Spacious."

"It's another trap!" someone cried. The shout was soon joined by many others.

"They're trying to finish us off early!"

"He's a liar!"

"We're all going to die!"

A stout man in a green tunic and blue and black striped pants, who Anxious recognized as the village chief, leaned toward the druid. Confliction was evident on his face, but Anxious detected a hidden anger deep within the man, just as strong as the other villager's. "What should we do with him, Getafix?" he asked, clearly uncertain of what to do with such a evil, wayward villain.

"Vitalstitistix," the druid, Getafix, replied sadly, "I really don't know."

"Throw him back out to his brethren!"

"Yeah, let them have their nasty, old spy back!"

"They can't trick us again! Not after what happened to Asterix!"

Anxious's heart did a flip-flop. If the Gauls turned him out the front gate, Spacious would know what he had done. That he knew about the letter. That the evil Commander's illegal acts were no longer a secret. He'd be thrown out of the army! Heck, he'd be killed! Spacious wouldn't give him the chance to plead his case! He'd be dead before he even opened his mouth!

"WAIT!"

The villagers grew quiet at his panicked cry. Anxious had nothing to lose...No, everything to lose. He had to convince them. He _had_ to! Not just to save his own life, but Panacea's as well.

"Please, listen to me," he pleaded. "I know this looks bad; I know I have no right to be trying to help you, but I assure you I am! What my Commander is doing is wrong! I never wanted to be a part of it, but I had no choice! But, please, you must believe me! I want to help! I can't do this any more! Spacious is a madman; he'll stop at nothing until you're all dead! No matter what you do tomorrow, he'll kill every last one of you!" He looked into their frightened eyes, trying to convey his sincereness in his own. "Please." His voice was quieter now. "I don't want Panacea to die."

There was a stunned silence. Fear and distrust still showed in the villager's faces. They were afraid to trust him. Could he really blame them?

"How...how do we know you're not lying?" a woman dressed in pink and standing beside the Vitalstitistix asked. Her face almost looked like she wanted to believe him. Like all she needed was the proof. That same look was reflected in all their expressions.

Anxious racked his brains, trying to think of something; anything, that might allay their fears. He thought back to his conversations with Panacea. How they had talked about their friends...their family... "Panacea told me she was married," he said suddenly. He thought hard, trying to remember the man's name. "To...to Trixicomic...no, no. that wasn't it..."

"Tragicomix?" It was an older Gaul who spoke up this time, dressed in blue and leaning heavily on a T- shaped stick. A hopeful lift in the old fellow's voice encouraged Anxious to continue.

"Yes! Yes, that was it! He's in Condatum. And Panacea said her father lives here, though she didn't tell me his name." He gave them a nervous smile, waiting to see their reaction. He was hoping that information would be enough to convince them of his honesty.

"But you might have...gotten that information out of her," Fullautomatix said, hesitantly. "...by force."

That was true. As much as Anxious hated to admit it, Romans were known for their less then pleasant ways of getting information. They could have tortured the girl for all the villagers knew. The thought distressed Anxious terribly, but he wasn't the only one. The Gauls seemed to grow angry again, just at the thought of such a horrendous idea, and they stepped toward him menacingly.

"Wait! Wait, please!" Anxious thought harder. There had to be something! Something that would prove he was telling the truth. "Her mother! Something happened to her mother! When I asked her whether her mother lived here in the village she became very sad. I could tell something bad must have happened. When I told her I was sorry she told me that it was alright; that it wasn't my fault."

Stunned silence again. Longer this time. The Gauls seemed truly startled. Anxious shifted nervously from one foot to the other, wondering if he had said something wrong. It wouldn't take much; Anxious had never been very good at communicating with others. A misunderstanding was likely; an accidental insult, even more so. The Roman soldier opened his mouth to add, what he hoped, was an apology for whatever he had said, when one of the villagers stepped out from the crowd.

He wasn't a tall man, seeming average height among his fellow Gauls. In fact, if he hadn't come forward, Anxious never would have noticed him at all. He was a perfectly normal Gaul. But as Anxious looked at him, he began to have a strange feeling deep inside. As if something important resided in those tired, red-rimmed eyes. Something he recognized...And then it hit him.

"You're...You're Panacea's father."

Soporifix nodded, and there was actually a hint of a smile on his face. "Yes." Anxious began to grow even more nervous. A wrathful father was not something he wanted to deal with right now.

"Ah, Sir," the Roman pleaded, "Please...you must believe me...I'am telling the truth..."

"I know you are."

Vitalstitistix's jaw dropped. "What?! Soporifix...are you sure you can trust this-"

"Yes." The fatherly Gaul's voice was certain; final. There wasn't a doubt in it at all. He kept his gaze steady, looking right into Anxious's eyes. "My wife died, many years ago. Panacea was a very little girl when it happened. My wife went out into the forest one morning...to gather some roots and berries for our family...She...when we found her..." The older Gaul's face was the very essence of grief. It broke the Roman's heart at how Soporifix struggled to tell him the tale; tale that Anxious felt he was unworthy to hear. Why would Soporifix give him this information? It was so personal. The other Gauls seemed to share the Roman's feelings.

"Ah, Soporifix..." Vitalstitistix muttered softly, but the emotional father put up a hand, regaining his composure before continuing.

"She had been ill for some time. I just never realized how...how sick she really was..." His eyes filled with pain. "Sometimes I forget how much Panacea looks like her mother." He looked back up into Anxious's face. "My daughter would never speak of her mother to an enemy; no matter what was done to her. She loved Camellia very much...and she took her death very hard. My daughter would never have spoken of her mother to you unless she trusted you." Soporifix held out his hand. "Any friend of my daughter is a friend of mine."

Anxious felt an immense wave of relief sweep over him. Returning the Gaul's smile, he shook Soporifix's hand in friendship. The other villagers relaxed visibly. Apparently their friend's words had been enough to convince them. And, at the moment, that was the best thing Anxious could ask for. He almost laughed with a mixture of joy and extrication...but then he remembered that time was of the essence. Anxious quickly turned back to the assembly.

"Spacious is attacking you against Caesar's orders."

"What?" Vitalstitistix looked overwhelmed. One minute the stranger was an intruder, the next he was a friend. One minute the whole Roman Empire was after their necks, and the next only one loony Commander and his faithful troop. It was confusing. Everything was moving too fast. Luckily, Getafix was a little more up to speed.

"How do you know this?" the druid asked, stepping forward and laying a gentle hand on the Roman's shoulder. He actually looked concerned. At first, Anxious thought it was because of the news he had brought, but looking into the bearded man's face it suddenly dawned on him that that wasn't the case. Getafix was concerned not only for the Gauls...he was concerned for _him_.

"I found a letter in his tent. It was from Caesar, demanding that Commander Spacious not attack or in any way harm you."

"Why?" Unhygenix piped up. "Why would Julius give up the chance to defeat us?"

Anxious shook his head, still unsure about that detail himself. "It seems he felt obligated to give you all a sort of temporary truce." He shrugged, expecting the Gauls to find that notion absurd. He was greatly surprised when they accepted the explanation without a problem.

"Yes, we have gotten him out of a bind now and again," Getafix said slowly, thinking back to adventures past. "But that means that Caesar knows nothing about what's been happening here the last week. Which means we're in bigger trouble than we thought. Having no one to answer too, Spacious will not hold back. And he hasn't been. His soldiers, no doubt, don't know they're working for a traitor; neither are they likely to believe us if we told them." He turned back to Anxious. "I take it you have a plan in mind?"

If the Roman was honest with himself, he didn't have anything other than a wispy shadow of an idea for a plan. But it was the only thing he could come with; the only thing left to try. And they were out of time. If anything was to be done, it had to be done; and soon.

He looked out into the wide-eyed expressions of the villagers. Anxious didn't know any of them. All he knew about them really was what Panacea had told him. But, somehow, through her words he had gained a sense of affection for these people. And now, those same people were looking to him for guidance. _Him!_ A man too shaky and nervous to ever become much of anyone. Ever. But...of course, his character had never been counted on to deliver the lives of an entire village before. He needed to go through with this. He could never stand the guilt of never having tried. And if that meant meeting the same end as the Gauls...then so be it.

"Yes, Sir, I have a plan. But I'm going to need your help to get it done."

Getafix nodded. "We'll go to my hut and discuss it. Follow me and hurry." And with that, the druid began leading the way through the village to his home.

...

"Obelix! Stand down! Let him go!" Getafix shouted, truly stunned by the large Gaul's unexpected reaction. It took the druid completely by surprise, and, to tell the truth, frightened him. Obelix was perhaps the most friendly, most docile Gaul in the whole village. He was thoughtful, and pleasant, even if he wasn't all that smart. What he lacked in brains he made up for in heart. Or so it usually was...but at the moment, Obelix was truly terrifying.

They had just entered Getafix's hut, with Anxious following behind them. All seemed to be as it was when Getafix had left it an hour ago. The sun was shining through the windows, lighting up the room in a pleasant orange glow, warming it with the rays of the rising sun. Cacofonix and Asterix, now both fully awake, were conversing with Obelix, who was exactly where Getafix had last seen him; sitting on a bench beside Asterix's cot. The only difference he could see was that, sometime during the morning, Picanmix had joined the group.

Obelix had looked up, hearing them enter, smiling as he laughed at something his companions had said. But when he spotted Anxious, dressed in Roman armor, stepping across the threshold, his expression changed from cheerful relief to frightened enragement. The transformation was startling, to say the least...but not nearly as startling as what happened next.

Obelix launched himself from the bench, effectively cutting the conversation he had been having only a moment before. The biggest Gaul could move surprisingly fast when need be, and this was no exception. Before anyone could do anything, in three swift strides, Obelix had Anxious pinned up against the wall.

"Let him down, Obelix!"

Anxious had never been so scared in his life. The brute force behind the Gaul's action held him, pressed against the hut. His feet weren't even touching the floor. He didn't notice the other Gauls trying to pull Obelix's hands off of the front of his tunic, and he didn't even see the way his own hands clutched the great, hulking mitts of his aggressor, shaking in fear. All he saw was the pure wrath that sparked in the angry eyes, only a few inches from his own.

Obelix tried to fight it. Tried to hold back the intense rage that coursed through him. But the sight of one of those...those monsters, who had caused all this suffering...Who had captured Panacea. Been willing to kill a little boy. Shoot Asterix. That was more then his emotions could take. Red seemed to cloud his vision, tinting the world in a crimson haze. His skin felt hot and fevered, just like it had when he had saved Asterix from outside the gate. Every muscle, every fiber of his being ached and hummed with an energy he didn't understand. It wasn't anything like the thrill that he had whenever they pummeled the Romans. And it wasn't the elated feeling he used to have whenever Panacea so much as looked at him, before she was married. This was nothing like those feelings. This was a throbbing, painful anger. Fury. The frightened face in front of him, the body scared stiff in his grip, had no effect on the big Gaul whatsoever.

Fullautomatix, Unhygenix, Vitalstitistix, and the other main members that formed the village's council, tried in vain to pull Obelix away from their guest. The large Gaul was as immovable as an oak, maybe even more so. Their attempts to break his hold didn't budge him a bit. They couldn't even get his attention. The strength with which Obelix was clutching the Roman was frightful. It was a wonder the Roman wasn't crying out from the sharp pressure against his chest, pushing him mercilessly into the woodwork. His armor was all that was saving him, or, at least, slowing Obelix down.

Fullautomatix couldn't help thinking back to the cart Obelix had crushed with a single blow out by the gate. How it had splintered to a pile of kindle, beyond repair. The thought made him double his efforts to restrain his friend.

"STOP!"

The shout came from behind them. It was a frightened yell. No, more like a scream. Laced with a barely hidden pain, it shattered through all the other noise; all the confusion. That voice finally broke through the big Gaul's anger. Obelix blinked, turning to look behind him, still holding Anxious against the wall.

Asterix stood in the center of the room, looking terribly shaken. His face was even paler then when he had first been shot. His hands were clenched at his sides and he swayed, wincing as he felt the room spin dizzily. Eyes wide and fixed on his friend, the hurt was more than obvious.

Asterix had watched in shock as his best friend crushed the Roman against the side of Getafix's hut. The action had been totally unexpected. Nothing the blond Gaul had ever seen in his friend came remotely close to this display of inconsolable wrath. And it scared Asterix to death. He scrambled out from beneath the covers, shakily stumbling to his feet, trying to suppress the pain the motion inflicted. Asterix _knew_ Obelix. Knew him better than anyone. And this was _not_ how Obelix usually acted. _Something was wrong. Horribly wrong._

_"_Obelix...Obelix, please...put him down..."

Obelix felt the red haze start to dissipate. It cleared away, and he saw Asterix out of bed, bare-footed and shivering, though not from cold. Asterix was afraid. Afraid of _him_. That hurt more than anything the biggest Gaul had ever felt. Worse then seeing Asterix shot. Worse than being shot himself. Because it was he who was causing the hurt.

Turning, Obelix looked into the terrified eyes of the man he had pinned against the wall. He could feel the Roman's heart beating wildly against his fists, intertwined in the material of Anxious's front. The Roman was afraid of him too. Glancing down at the faces of the other Gauls, who still held onto him, paused in their attempt to move him away. Picanmix, Dogmatix clutched in his arms, stared from behind the safety of a bench; frightened. Cacofonix, sitting on the edge of his cot, was visibly shaking, griping the bed sheets beneath him. Their faces all showed an unmistakable emotion; fear...They were _all_ afraid of him.

Obelix slowly lowered his arms, carefully setting the Roman's feet back onto the firm floor and backed away. He could feel his anger waning, disappearing into a terrible guilt. A terrible revulsion at what had just happened; how he had lost control.

_What had he almost done...?_

**...**

**YIKES! This was hard to write for some reason! I guess it's because Obelix isn't usually so emotional, especially when it comes to such intense anger. Obelix is such a sweet, lighthearted fellow in the comics, and it's hard to imagine him ever being like this. But of course, he's never had to face the stress or fear or anger he's been under in my story.**

**I'm known, at least told by others, that I am a very friendly person. People say that they could never imagine me ever getting mad; just like we often think of Obelix. But i remember a time, when i was going through a very hard, and stressful time, where i completely broke down. I was so angry, at myself and everything around me, that I very nearly did something I would have regretted terribly.**

**So I know what stress, fear, and anger can do to someone. But we bounce back. Just as Obelix will.**


	17. A Plan in Motion

Things were awful uncomfortable after that. Obelix was helped to sit back on his bench, and Asterix was made to get back into bed; or, at least, as close to being 'in bed' as Getafix could get him. The little Gaul refused to climb under the covers at all, instead insisting on sitting on the bedside, as close to Obelix as he could. The worry in Asterix's eyes was unmistakable, and he gently laid a hand on his friend's arm.

Asterix wasn't sure what had caused his best friend's violent actions, but now that it had faded, Obelix looked almost as bed as he felt. His skin had taken on a ghostly pallor, and his eyes were dulled; stunned. Apparently Obelix was just as disturbed about his behavior as the rest of them were.

While Getafix got Obelix and Asterix settled back into their places and tried to explain what a Roman was doing in the village, the rest of the Gauls assisted the badly shaken Anxious. The Roman had collapsed to the floor the minute Obelix released him; panting heavily. He wasn't hurt, thankfully, just terribly frightened. That was the reaction Anxious had feared he would receive when he first entered the village. That was the reaction he had expected. But, when the other Gauls had accepted him, he had relaxed, thinking he was safe. Oh, how mistaken he had been! He hadn't expected to be smashed against the woodwork! It had nearly scared him half to death!

Fullautomatix helped the others sit the Roman up. The first thing they did was check the fellow for any injury. Anxious's armor was dented in the back, where the metal had met the wall; his clothing was wrinkled, and his hair was tousled and frizzed, giving him a bedraggled look. But he was surprisingly unharmed. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't all that surprising. Obelix had been angry. Angrier than Fullautomatix had ever seen him. But Obelix would never _ever_ kill someone. Never. The Gaul was to good; kindly for that. As upset as he had been, the blacksmith knew deep down that Obelix wouldn't have killed Anxious. Pummel him? Yes. Scare him? Sure. But take the Roman's life? Impossible. Even as angry as Obelix had been, that could never be a possibility. Something deep down inside of Obelix would never let him go that far, even if Asterix hadn't stopped him.

Obelix's anger...well, just got the better of him sometimes. Like at the gate, when he had roughly pulled Fullautomatix out of his way, pulling the muscle in his arm. The blacksmith knew Obelix hadn't meant to hurt him, and he had forgiven the larger Gaul, because he knew that. Fullautomatix even recalled a time when Obelix had actually hurt Asterix. The two Gaulish companions had been having a fight, which wasn't all that unusual. But then Asterix had called Obelix fat...Big mistake. One that Asterix should have known better than to make. Obelix had been so upset by that point that he didn't have control over his intense anger. He had hit Asterix. _Hard_. The poor little Gaul wasn't quite right for the following twenty-four hours or so. It had literally knocked him silly. And Obelix had been devastated. Luckily, Asterix had returned to his normal state, but the fact still remained. Obelix had hit _Asterix; _his best friend.*

Obelix's anger just got the better of him sometimes.

Anxious stood unsteadily to his feet with the help of the other Gauls. He was still pretty shaken, but at the moment he was pushing the incident to the back of his mind. Something more important had caught his eye. "That's...That's Asterix!" he cried, pointing to the Gaul sitting on the bed beside his attacker. "He's-he's alive!"

"Yes," Getafix nodded sagely, his eyes still focused on Obelix. He didn't know what had happened, but he didn't want it to happen again. "No thanks to your Commander. Asterix was very fortunate."

"But he was shot in the back!"

"In through the back and out through the shoulder, actually," Asterix piped up. He looked over at Anxious, giving him a weak smile. His hand never left Obelix's arm, especially when the little Gaul felt a shiver run through his friend beside him.

"Indeed." Getafix's eyes took on a far away look as the memories of that night came back, but he pushed it away. "But all is well. Asterix is fine. In fact, so far there have been no casualties. A few close calls, to be sure, but everyone is alright."

"Everyone?" The Roman became perplexed. "But, the first night...when my Commander launched that...that terrible weapon...it hit that little cottage up in the tree..." His eyes showed immense guilt and pain. "No one could survive that..."

"That was indeed a terrible event," Getafix said, "But we did not lose anyone that night either." He indicated Cacofonix, who was still sitting on the side of his own cot, watching. "It was a close call, and we almost lost him, but, as you can see, he's healing up just fine."

Anxious's face was washed with relief. All this time he had been blaming himself for, what he was sure was, two horrible deaths. And now, suddenly, out of the clear, blue sky, he found out that his hands were clean of such a crime. He was not the monster he had begun to make himself to be in his own eyes. He was innocent. He was free of blame. It was almost to good to be true, but here was the proof!

Anxious jumped slightly when Getafix lay a hand on the Roman's shoulder. "We are both glad and touched that you were worried about Asterix and Cacofonix's health, but as you know, time is growing short. If we are going to get out of this situation with all our lives, we are going to have to act fast, and soon. You said you have a plan?"

_Right. Plan. Plan..._

It wasn't the best idea, that Anxious knew. But he wasn't used to this kind of thing. He was a soldier. Soldier didn't come up with strategies, they followed orders. Someone said march, they marched; someone said camp, they camped. But maybe the Gauls could add to his ideas; make it work. _Here goes..._

"Right...Sorry. Um, well, there's a few things that would really help this situation. One being that you Gauls could use your magic potion."

Fullautomatix frowned. "But we're all out."

"I still have a little," Asterix spoke up. "And, of course, Obelix doesn't need the potion for his strength."

"But we can't go out there," the old Gaul with the T-shaped cane added, "Panacea would be killed before we reached her."

"I know that," Anxious sighed. He took off his helmet. It was the first time any of the Gauls had seen him without it. He had dark hair, just like any other Roman they had ever seen. His eyes, however, seemed kinder without the threatening armor shadowing his brow. "I know, that's why we have to get Panacea out of there."

"How?"

"Part of my job these past several days, has been guarding Panacea in the clearing in the forest." He shot Obelix an uneasy glance, afraid that this sentence might provoke another attack. But the big Gaul seemed a good deal calmer now, and was watching him closely like his companions, thought with a untrusting glare. "Quite often it has just been her and I. It wouldn't be easy, seeing as the woods are patrolled, but one could sneak her farther into the forest, and find a place to hide. She wouldn't be safe in the village, but she wouldn't be in the Commander's reach either. Then there wouldn't be anything stopping you from going out there and...ah," he looked to Obelix, gulping as he ran a hand over where the large Gaul had gripped him. "...take care of the problem."

Getafix nodded in approval. It was a risky plan, but it was the only chance they had now. The day was waning fast. Tomorrow would be a disaster if they didn't do something quick. "You will take Panacea into the forest?"

Anxious's expression became one of guilt. "Um, well, you see, there's something else important that we need to do..."

"What's that?"

"We need to send someone to go fetch Caesar himself."

The Gauls' faces showed their thoughts on that idea before they even voiced their opinions.

"What?!"

"Are you insane?!"

"That's the last thing we need!"

"But we can't accomplish this plan without him," the Roman tried to explain. "Look, Commander Spacious has been attacking you against Caesar's orders. There's nothing holding him back. Even if you go out there and defeat him, and send him and his army packing, Caesar will never know what he did. Spacious will find a way to keep his soldiers quiet, and no matter what I say, no one would ever believe me. Spacious would be a free man. He would wait...and he would come back."

There was a long silence. The Gauls glanced at each other uneasily, but realized that Anxious was right. If Julius Caesar didn't know what the evil Commander had done, Spacious would come back and try again...and who knows whether they'd be as lucky next time as they'd been this time.

"So what do we do," Fullautomatix asked softly.

"Someone has to go get Caesar, tell him what's happening; get him to come. I doubt he would listen to any of you, so I'd have to be the one to go." Anxious gave a bitter chuckle. "If he'll even listen to _me_. Then he can come and see what Spacious has done, and the Commander will be imprisoned for his crimes. He'll never be able to bother you again."

"That's all fine and well," Vitalstitistix stated, still feeling a bit overwhelmed, "But if you're off getting Julius, who's going to get Panacea out of the Commander's clutches?" The other Gauls nodded seriously, turning questioning looks back to the Roman.

Anxious had felt he was doing fairly well up until now. He was never one for being terribly clever...or brave. His name _was_ Anxious after all! He was actually pretty surprised at himself, and what he had accomplished so far. He had gone against his crazy Commander's orders, snuck into enemy territory, was coming up with a plan to save them all, and was going to be running off to fetch Caesar! That was pretty impressive for him. But when Vitalstitistix asked that one question, it seemed to snap him back to reality. This wasn't a game. This was going to be risky; dangerous.

"One of you Gauls will have to take my place."

Another long, uncomfortable silence followed.

Anxious knew he was pushing it. These people had been through so much already. Sending another one of their own outside the safety of the village was not an enticing prospect; especially considering what had happened to Asterix the last time. Spacious wasn't fooling around. If he found them, he'd kill them. Could Anxious really expect the Gauls to agree to such a perilous plan? What would they do if they didn't agree? Anxious didn't have any other ideas that could work.

The Gauls stood staring at the floor, each thinking their own thoughts, weighing the benifits, and possible costs, this plan might make for them. If it worked, Panacea would be safe, and they would be free to get out there and scare those Romans away, with a good pummeling of course. But if they failed...Oh, Toutatis, if it failed! Someone might die...But if they stood by and did nothing, someone _would_ die. They would all die. Slowly, each and every Gaul present sent Vitalstitistix a confident nod. They'd do it. They had to do it.

"Alright, Roman," the chieftain declared, "We're with you. How do we go about it."

Anxious felt oddly relieved. "Someone will have to wear my armor and sneak back into my camp. My guard shift begins tonight, after sunset. They'll have to guard Panacea until the rest of the clearing is...ah, clear, of anyone else. The woods are patrolled at night, so they'll have to be careful. They should be someone who knows the forest well enough to navigate it in the dark, as well as find a safe place to hide. All they have to do after that is make sure they stay hidden until it's safe to come out of hiding. By then, hopefully, Spacious and his army should be taken care of."

"Good," Getafix grunted from his place in the corner. He seemed pretty pleased with the plan, which Anxious took as quite an honor. Druids were wise men, and to have one agree with your ideas was encouraging, to say the least. "Now all we have left to decide is who will be going out in your armor. And no, Asterix, it will not be you!" The druid shot his friend a glare, having noticed the smaller Gaul's hand already preparing to rise for volunteering. "You were injured only two days ago, and I will not permit you to go out and cause yourself to have a relapse. You can barely walk as it is, and your fever is still higher than I would like it to be." He saw the frown that crossed Asterix's face, and a small smile crept into the druid's features. "Besides...your too small." Asterix blinked a few times, then smiled back, giving a nod. Obelix looked relieved.

"That is something that will be important in our decision," Getafix added, stroking his long, white beard thoughtfully. "Whoever we pick will have to resemble Anxious, at least in size and stature." The Gauls looked at each other, frowning; realizing just how difficult that might turn out to be.

Anxious was incredibly thin. Almost alarmingly so. Even with the armor he wore, his scrawny arms and legs stuck out, like twigs. And while many of the Gauls in the village weren't as rotund as Unhygenix, or even Vitalstitistix, none of them seemed to be all that slim. Certainly not as slim as that! Obelix was't even an option. Geriatrix was too old and bent. Fullautomatix was too tall and too wide-chested. Vitalstitistix and Unhygenix were too big. And even Soporifix wasn't the right size. In fact, no one could think of anyone in the village who matched Anxious's physique. They were all either too tall, too short, too young, too old, or too fat to even be able to get the armor on. No one could think of a single Gaul who...well, almost no one...

Picanmix had been watching the discussion from behind the safety of his bench. He was still weary of Obelix, having been terribly frightened by his friend's reaction to the Roman. But the big Gaul seemed fine now, or, at least, mostly so, and Picanmix had focused his attention back on the other adults. He, personally, thought Anxious's plan was very daring and heroic. He, as most children will, didn't understand just how serious this mission would be; how dangerous. Because of this, his thinking was a little calmer than his fellow Gauls, and he noticed something the other Gauls had overlooked.

"What about Cacofonix?"

The adults looked to the little boy. In truth, many had forgotten he was even there. Picanmix had been so quiet and still, he might as well not have been. His small, high-pitched voice, however, had quickly reminded them of his presence.

"What?" Vitalstitistix hadn't quite heard, as hadn't the others.

"What about Cacofonix?" the child repeated, pointing to the bard with a small hand. "He's almost exactly the same size as the Roman."

The others turned to look, blinking in surprise. How could they have forgotten Cacofonix? The bard was very nearly the same height as Anxious, and, due to his injuries and lack of proper nourishment, was even thinner than usual. In truth, he was almost as frighteningly scrawny as the Roman soldier. Of course, beyond those similarities they were completely different. Anxious's hair and eyes were very dark, and his skin was quite tan; while Cacofonix was light-skinned, had blond hair and light blue eyes. Besides shape and size, they looked nothing alike.

Cacofonix had been listening to the discussion much the same way as Picanmix had been. He too thought the Roman's plan was very daring, and he longed to help. His mind had wondered to possible ways he could lend a hand. He was too occupied with his thoughts to notice he was being watched at first, but when he did he nearly jumped out of his skin. The Gauls were all looking at him. He suddenly wondered if he had been asked a question and was expected to answer...but then remembered he couldn't answer. He wished he hadn't lost track of the conversation. The last thing he had heard was them saying something about sending a Gaul out to take Anxious's place to save Panacea. What were they all looking at him for?

Getafix must have noticed the bard's confusion and spoke up quickly, throwing in the last bit of the discussion so that Cacofonix could figure out what had just been said. "No, that won't do. It's true that they are a perfect match, but Cacofonix cannot go out there. While he is recovering well, he is still not as cured as I would like. I doubt his body could handle the mission. He, like Asterix, would most likely suffer a relapse."

Oh, so someone had suggested he go out disguised as Anxious, Cacofonix realized. His first thought was that that he'd _finally_ be able to do something. He'd been laid up for days, listening helplessly while disaster after disaster struck the village. The bard had felt so useless. And he was useless! For goodness sake! What could a bard do? Nothing! A blacksmith could make weapons, and warriors could fight; but what could he do? Sing them to death? And then something finally comes up that he could do; he was sure of it...and Getafix forbid him to do it. All Cacofonix wanted to do was help...and he couldn't even voice his opinion. He couldn't even argue that he thought he _could _do it.

"I'm sure there is someone in our village other than Cacofonix who could get the job done," the druid continued, blissfully unaware of the look Cacofonix was sending his way. "We just have to find them." He turned to the Gauls in the confines of his cottage. "Go out and see who would work. There must be someone. We need to hurry, it's nearly noon."

Vitalstitistix, Unhygenix, Fullautomatix, Geriatrix, Picanmix, and Soporifix left quickly, knowing that time was of the essence. Once they were gone Getafix turned to Anxious, just as the Roman sneezed.

The air wasn't as cold as it had been, but it was still unseasonably cool for the summertime. Anxious, because of the patrols in the forest, had been forced to take the long way around to get to the village, which, unfortunately, had involved a great deal of water. The trip had taken him all night, and the combination of moisture and chilly air was proving to have an unpleasant effect.

The Roman sneezed again.

"Anxious, come with me," Getafix instructed as he started making his way toward the back room of his hut. "You will do little good to our plan if you are ill. I will give you some dry clothes for your journey."

Anxious carefully removed his armor, putting it near the hearth to dry. Without the metal plates, the Roman seemed even thinner. He started following the druid, but Getafix paused as he passed the remaining Gauls left in the room.

"Obelix, I want you to come too." Then Getafix fixed Asterix with a stern glance. "And I want _you_ to get some rest. You too, Cacofonix. You both need as much rest as you can get." With that, Getafix headed out with a nervous Anxious and a very reluctant Obelix trailing behind.

Now alone, Asterix gave Cacofonix a kind smile as he made his way in under the sheets. Normally the little Gaul would reject sleep, especially with so much going on. But the whole thing with Obelix, as well as their long discussion, had officially worn him out. He realized just how unwell he really was. If he couldn't even handle a little bit of excitement, there was no way he could go on a mission. He'd probably pass out. He still hadn't completely recovered from all the blood he had lost.

Cacofonix remained sitting on the edge of his cot; thinking. Asterix must have been exhausted, because he was asleep only a few moments after his head hit the pillow. And Cacofonix was left alone with his thoughts.

He knew the others were out looking for someone to go out dressed as Anxious. They needed the perfect match. But...By Toutatis! _He _was a perfect match! Stupid weak body! The villagers and Getafix had saved his life! And here he was unable to repay them! It burned him up inside. All he wanted to do was get Panacea away from that lunatic of a man...For everything to go back to normal...But he couldn't make it. He was too ill; too weak...

Or was he?

...

It was taking a good deal longer to find Anxious a fresh tunic than Getafix had first anticipated. Not that the Roman was picky, Toutatis no! But Getafix knew that, in order to get into Caesar's palace at all, Anxious would have to at least look halfway presentable. If he looked like a beggar, he'd never gain entrance at all. Luckily, Getafix had collected a large number of different costumes over the years. Not that _he_ used them. They were robes, tunics, and trinkets that often found their way to the village whenever Obelix and Asterix returned from some adventure or another. They were useful, whenever a disguise was needed, and were kept for that very purpose.

"Ah, here we are," he druid proclaimed, holding up a dark green tunic with a golden sash. It was the clothes of a merchant; a rich merchant. Anxious would have much better luck getting to Caesar now. "Go ahead and try this on. It might be a little big."

"That's alright," Anxious smiled. He took the clothes and headed for the next room. "As long as it's warm and dry." He gave Obelix a swift, shaky grin; more of a grimace,really; before quickly leaving to change.

Once he was gone, Getafix turned to Obelix. The big Gaul hadn't said a word all this time. Eyes focused on the floor, he had followed and waited patiently while the druid took care of Anxious. The man Obelix had attacked.

"Obelix...I don't know what to say to you." Obelix winced, even though there was no anger in Getafix's voice.

The druid sighed, sitting down on a bench, laying his head against his hand. Getafix really _didn't_ know what to say. Obelix's attack had been a shock. A terrible shock. Getafix was _still_ shocked. It was unlike anything the druid had ever seen in the big Gaul before. But Getafix wasn't stupid. He _was_ a druid after all. He knew that Obelix must have had a reason for his actions, however irrational or rational they may be. "Obelix...what happened?"

Obelix felt so ashamed. Now that his anger had passed, images of what he had done kept flashing through his mind. He wanted nothing more than to run off and hide. With any luck, everyone would forget about him and he could become a hermit in some far off land. But since that was very unlikely to happen, he'd have to face up to Getafix's questions.

It was funny, the way the Gauls looked up to the druid. For most, he was like a second father, and Obelix was no exception. Getafix took care of them, gave them advice, looked after their welfare; he was physician, strategist, and friend. To gain his approval was a wonderful thing; to be the focus of his disappointment was dreadful. No one ever wanted to disappoint Getafix, not after all he had done for them.

"Obelix, look at me."

The big Gaul refused to make eye contact.

"Obelix, _what happened_?"

"I-I'm sorry, Getafix...I-I was just so...so angry, I just...I didn't mean to..." The largest Gaul didn't know how to continue. The more he thought about it, he really _couldn't_ justify what he had done.

Getafix stood up, coming up to him, looking very concerned. "Does this have something to do with...with Asterix being shot?"

Obelix scrunched his eyes closed and nodded miserably.

"Now, Obelix, I want you to listen to me very carefully. _Commander Spacious_ is the one who shot Asterix. Anxious had nothing to do with it." Obelix still wouldn't make eye contact. "You were very angry." A question?

Again Obelix nodded. "I-I couldn't control myself. All I saw was a Roman who...who hurt my friends." His face suddenly gave way to the grief he was feeling. "Getafix...I didn't...didn't mean to hurt him! I-I was just so...so mad.. I- I..."

"Obelix-"

"I-I'm sorry, Getafix...I-I really am s-"

"Obelix, listen." Obelix fell silent and Getafix continued. "I understand your anger, Obelix. But you really need to try to control yourself. Someone could get hurt. You could get hurt." There was a pause. "Obelix, can you tell me what happened to Fullautomatix's arm?"

_Oh no..._

"Getafix, I-"

"You did it, didn't you?"

"...Y-Yes."

"How?"

_Please, Getafix, don't make me tell._ "He...he tried to stop me from going out and...and..." He couldn't finish.

Getafix nodded. He laid a gentle hand on Obelix's shoulder, looking up into the big Gaul's sorrowful face. "I know it hurts, Obelix. We're all upset; about Asterix; about everything that's happened. But we have to watch ourselves, Obelix. If we hurt without thinking; strike back just as hard, without mercy, we'd be just as bad as Spacious. We can do this without hurting them. I know it isn't easy, but it's the right thing to do. I know you understand this, but sometimes our emotions get in the way. But we have to keep them in check. Spacious is trying to drive us over the edge, Obelix. Don't let him win." He smiled gently. "Alright?"

For the first time since their conversation had begun, Obelix made eye contact. They were big, moist, sad eyes, but the druid saw a sparkle of understanding in them. Understanding and gratefulness. "Yes, Getafix."

"Good, man. Now we-"

"GETAFIX!" The voice broke in through the druid's own words as Anxious fairly flew into the room. He was dressed in the clothes he had been given, and they fit quite well, if Getafix did say so himself. But the Roman looked far from happy. In fact, he looked terrified.

"Anxious? What is it?"

"My armor! It's gone! Someone's taken the armor!"

"What?!"

The three Gaul's ran into the main room, frantically taking in the scene. Asterix was still in bed, just starting to sit up, having been awakened by the shouts. The room looked exactly as it had before, but for one detail. The Roman armor was nowhere to be seen.

Then Getafix noticed something else that was missing. Or, more accurately,_ someone_. The druid's eyes opened wide as what had happened dawned on him. It made his stomach feel sick and his heart skip a beat. This was bad! Oh, this was really, _really_ bad!

"Oh, Cacofonix...what are you thinking?..."

**...**

***The incident where Obelix hits Asterix is from the album _Asterix and the Actress._**

**I'm getting close to the end now! Three, four, or five chapters left, I think. Not really sure. I don't seem to have much control over that. :)**


	18. Escape

How Roman soldiers could move, never mind battle, in armor was beyond Cacofonix's understanding. The metal was restricting, making his movements slow, and clumsy. They were hot too, making them all the more uncomfortable. But that was the least of the bard's worries.

Cacofonix still found it hard to believe what he had done; what he was doing. The bard had always obeyed Getafix. In fact, of all the Gauls, Cacofonix was probably the most compliant. He hardly ever left the village for any reason, other than to go somewhere where he could sing in peace. Singing in the village was about as rebellious as he ever got. He knew it bothered the others, though he had no clue why. Personally, he thought he had a wonderful voice...or he used to.

_No, can't think about that now._

Cacofonix hadn't taken the decision lightly. He had sat on his cot in the druid's hut, going over every option. His mind wandered through all the villagers, trying to think of one person; just one, that would be suitable for infiltrating the Roman camp. He couldn't think of a single one. Of all the Gauls, only Cacofonix looked enough like Anxious to pass as the Roman soldier. And Cacofonix knew it.

He had taken the armor and left quickly before anyone could discover he was missing. He had made his way to the shore behind the village, and taken a raft. Going out the front gate was too risky; he might get caught. Once he was alongside the forest, he had landed the small craft, covering it with branches and shrubs to hide it from any prying eyes. It wouldn't do to let the Romans know that there was even a remote chance of any Gauls in the woods. Not at all.

Now he was making his way through the forest. The armor was slowing him down considerably; not that he was in any hurry. Cacofonix wasn't used to being the 'daring warrior'. He was just a common, ordinary musician. He didn't go out, rescuing people and taking dangerous risks. That was Asterix and Obelix's job. But things had changed. Asterix was hurt, and Obelix was...well, just a little too tense right now; not thinking clearly.

When those who usually hold everything together start to fall apart, others have no choice but to step forward and pick up the slack.

And that was what Cacofonix was doing. He owed it to the others. They had shown him such kindness; taking care of him in his time of need. Before all this had started, Cacofonix had been beginning to wonder if he meant anything to his village at all. People often insulted him, teased him, threatened him, and even tied him to trees, gagged, so he couldn't sing. The bard had begun to think that if he left, no one would miss him. No one would care. He was nothing to them; just a burden and a bother.

How wrong he had been.

The love and care he had received from his friends still left him feeling dazed. Never in his life had he ever felt so wanted. The villagers _did_ care. They really did. Even Fullautomatix and Unhygenix had shown the bard a whole knew side. They had saved him. Helped heal him. They all had.

He owed this to them.

The sun was beginning to edge toward the western horizon. It had taken some time to get into the woods, even with taking the raft. As the shadows lengthened, Cacofonix carefully made his way through the forest. He knew the area quite well. He often wandered the woods, singing to himself when his audience inside the village was anything less than receptive. He could navigate them without any problem, though he still looked around nervously.

Suddenly he heard voices. It couldn't be anyone other than the Romans, seeing as the woods was crawling with patrols.

Cacofonix felt his heart speed up. This wasn't going to be easy. He had two main things that he had to be extra careful about. One was his lack of voice. He'd have to try and avoid anyone he came across, if possible. If they asked questions, he wouldn't be able to answer. Another problem was his hair and mustache. First of all, Romans were typically quite dark, and Cacofonix was very fair. His hair was blond, and he knew that would be highly suspicious. In fact, that would most definitely give him away. Not to mention he had a mustache, while Romans tended to be clean shaven. If he had really thought this through, the bard could have prepared himself a little more. Find ways to look a little less...Gaulish. But it was too late now. He'd have to make do. The helmet would hopefully hide most of his hair, and if he tucked it in and kept his head down, his mustache should stay pretty much hidden. Plus it was starting to get dark. The weak light would help. Hopefully. The bard crept through the forest, still listening to the various voices that sounded uncomfortably close.

"Hey! What are you doing out here?"

_Oh no..._

Cacofonix turned around sharply, trying to disguise the pure terror he felt welling up inside him. There, before him was a Roman guard. He wasn't huge, but was still a good head taller than the bard. Cacofonix tilted his head away from the dwindling daylight. Giving a shrug of his shoulders, he hoped that would be sufficient enough an answer for the man. Luckily, it seemed to be.

"Your not supposed to leave your patrol group," the Roman growled, eyeing him distastfully. "Where are you assigned?"

Cacofonix shrugged, trying not to make the action seem careless or subordinate.

"Well, if you don't know, head back to the clearing!" He pointed to the left; what Cacofonix could only assume was the direction of their camp.

The bard nodded. He was relieved that he wouldn't be detained further. Giving a rather clumsy Roman salute, he quickly started in the direction the Roman had indicated.

...

BAMM!

"That idiot!" Fullautomatix banged his fist down on the wooden bedpost. "He's going to get himself killed!"

Once it had been discovered that Cacofonix had taken it upon himself to proceed with the mission, the council had once again gathered in Getafix's hut. All were terribly upset, though that was only a thin layer of emotion that covered the true issue: they were worried.

Getafix seemed equally unhappy. "He deliberately disobeyed me! He's not well enough to be out and about!" The druid shook his head. "He's going to get hurt, and we wont be there to help him! The wound on his side was quite serious, and it hasn't healed completely, despite the potion in his blood."

Anxious stood in the corner, watching as the Gauls had gone from shock, to anger, and were slowly working their way up to seriously concerned. He was upset, as were they all, that the bard had gone off and done something that was hazardous to his health. Even though the Roman really didn't know Cacofonix, since the catapult he had felt responsible for the fellow. He had felt responsible for his supposed death, and now felt responsible for endangered life. But their hands were tied. Again. They couldn't go after him, it would not only jeopardize their plan, but was likely to end in someone's death. There was only one option left.

"We'll have to go through with it."

The Gauls looked at him with disbelief. "What!?"

"We've got no choice." Anxious waved his arm out toward the direction of the gate. "It's too late to go after your friend, and this mission was our only chance. If we're going to save Panacea, and all of us, we're going to have to go through with the plan."

Unhygenix looked increasingly worried. "But-but what about Cacofonix?"

"He's taken the first step in our strategy; a step we can't take back. We can only go forward. Cacofonix will just have to hold out as long as he can." That didn't settle with the Gauls at all.

"But he's out there all alone!"

"And he's hurt!"

"What if Spacious figures out what we're trying to do?!"

"Anxious is right," Getafix spoke up over the others' cries of disapproval. "There's no turning back. Cacofonix is in trouble, yes, but he knew what he was doing when he left. The only thing we can do is what we planned to do." He looked to the Roman. "Anxious, you had better leave for Rome. We'll handle it here. There's more rafts by the shore; take one and sail until it's safe to land. And may Toutatis give you speed."

Anxious nodded, grabbing a satchel the Gauls had packed for him. "I'll be back as soon as I can...Good luck."

And with that, the Roman was gone. The Gauls were left to their end of the plan, which was looking more and more bleak by the second. Not that anyone doubted Cacofonix could get the job done; that was the farthest thing from their minds. It wasn't a question of whether the bard could do it or not; but of how far he could go before his body gave out on him.

"How will we know when Cacofonix has gotten Panacea out of the Roman camp?" Vitalstitistix asked, after a long silence.

"The plan was to give whoever went out until tomorrow morning before we launched our attack. We just have to hope Cacofonix will have been successful by that time." The druid turned to Asterix. "We need a battle strategy. Any ideas, Asterix?"

The blond Gaul was still in bed; awake and alert, but confined there all the same. Getafix had been very worried about the amount of blood Asterix has lost, and had insisted that he keep practically immobile. And Asterix hated every minute of it. He wanted to be up and helping the others; doing his part. But every time he even tried to stand, the room would feel as though it were tipping perilously to the side. He hated that lightheaded feeling it gave him; like floating. He hated it almost as much as he hated being stuck in bed. But he was getting stronger by the day. By tomorrow he was sure he'd be well enough to help more. But for the moment, he'd follow the druid's suggestion. When Getafix asked him for a battle strategy, his mind happily kicked into a familiar gear. If he couldn't get off the cot to help just yet, he'd help in a different way.

"When we're ready to attack, we should do so swiftly," the small Gaul said, thinking out loud. "Obelix should go first, seeing as he doesn't need any magic potion. I have a little left in my gourd, so that's at least two people who can actually fight."

"But what about the rest of us," Unhygenix asked. He raised an eyebrow worriedly. "There certainly isn't enough potion for us all. And I doubt two Gauls is going to intimidate them much."

"Obelix and I have attacked outposts before, just the two of us," Asterix replied, "And we were able to send them packing. Besides, it won't be just us. After Obelix and I start pummeling the Romans, the rest of you will charge out. Act like you've had potion. It will make us look stronger than we are. We'll scare them away."

Getafix frowned. "Asterix, you're not planning on leading the attack are you?"

Asterix sighed. "Getafix, I have to. If I don't, it won't have the same effect. Those Romans are still weary of us. Of Obelix and I especially. If they see us, me in particular, it will shake their belief in Spacious's lies. Seeing me, alive, should do the same thing. They think I'm dead."

"And you might end up that way," the druid grumbled disapprovingly. He knew Asterix was right, but he was still worried for his friend's health.

Asterix gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Besides, tomorrow I'll be even better. The magic potion will give me a burst of extra strength. And I promise I'll only hit a few Romans; just to shake them up." It almost sounded like he was asking permission, but the druid new that wasn't the case. Asterix was going to go through with this no matter what Getafix thought or said.

Getafix sighed in defeat. "Very well."

The small, blond Gaul gave the druid a thankful nod then turned to the rest of the assembly. "Alright everyone, here's the plan..."

The Gauls listened attentively to Asterix, and then started preparation for the next morning. While their hope was being rekindled by the prospect of finally doing something against their enemies, a small cloud of dread enveloped them as well. They were worried about Cacofonix. They were worried that he might collapse before he could save Panacea, or that the Romans would find him out. They were worried for Panacea's life. They were worried for Anxious, travelling off to get Caesar. They were worried for their own safety as well. But hope is stronger than worry, and it outshone the cloud of dread. Hope was something they had missed terribly. Now they clung to it with both hands.

...

Cacofonix's heart was pounding in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was fear or the strain on his body this mission was causing, but it was slamming away within his rib cage like there was no tomorrow. And if he failed, there would be no tomorrow. Not for him, and not for Panacea. Maybe not for the whole village.

The woods stopped abruptly and the bard found himself in a clearing. The glen was packed with Romans, all gathering into groups to head out on patrol. The sight caused Cacofonix to freeze, momentarily forgetting that he was in disguise. He wanted to hide; run away. But Panacea and the village were counting on him. He had to go through with this. And the sooner the better. Already he could feel his body tiring; getting weaker.

Steeling himself, the bard took a deep breath and stepped out into the fray. He kept his head down, hoping the dusk would hide his fair skin and mustache. He walked swiftly, as if he were headed somewhere important. If he looked busy, the likelihood of him being stopped would be smaller. The Romans paid very little attention to him, occupied with getting out on patrol before their Commander became upset with their lack of speed in doing so. Armed to the teeth and marching in neat rows, one patrol after another left the clearing, thinning the numbers in the glen to only a dozen or so.

Cacofonix wasn't sure where the Romans might be keeping Panacea. And he wasn't about to ask for directions...even if he could. So he wandered around, trying to keep that hurried, occupied look about him. The sky above was now completely black, and the first glittering points of the stars began to blink into existence. It was beautiful, and Cacofonix wished he could have just sat back and watched the night sky, but he couldn't. He had to find Panacea.

After a while he came across a smaller clearing, attached to the main one, branching off from the larger glen. There was not much movement from within it, and Cacofonix stepped in to take a better look. What he saw made him grind to a halt.

There was only one campfire in this clearing, unlike the other, which had been full of firelight. In the dim, flickering warmth there was three figures. Two he didn't recognize. One was a huge, burly guard, who stood stiff and menacing just barely within the reach of the fire's glow. The second was a fat man, richly dressed, and wearing a nauseating smile. Cacofonix had never seen him, but the bard knew this must be Commander Spacious. It showed in the Roman's face; his cruelty; his insanity. It could be no other. Cacofonix felt a chill run up and down his spine. He suddenly felt terribly afraid. Even the air around him seemed to cool under that sickening smile.

The third figure by the fire, however, Cacofonix _did_ recognize. She was pale and thin; her hair unbrushed and tangled, but it was her. It was Panacea. A joy spread through the bard's heart as he saw her. After a whole week of worrying about her, not even having the satisfaction the other Gauls had had of seeing her, it was like taking a fresh breath after being trapped underwater for far too long. He almost felt like lurching forward and enveloping her in a gripping embrace. But the mood in the clearing stopped him. It was dark; foreboding. Shifting behind a nearby tree before he could be spotted, the bard pressed his body against the trunk, out of sight, and listened carefully. Luckily, he could hear every word.

"I really must say," a voice drifted to Cacofonix in an almost silky voice, "I'm impressed by how long your little friends have held out." The man was talking matter-of-factly, as if it really _didn't_ impress him in the slightest. Again Cacofonix felt that chill, and he knew the voice belonged to Spacious.

"After a whole week of starvation, and stress, and being threatened; I'd have thought they'd have given up by now," he continued with a dark chuckle. "And then there's your little friend Asterix...I'd have thought it would have been harder to kill him."

The next voice was Panacea's, angry and full of hate. "You monster! Asterix could have taken you on in a fair fight any day! Anyone in that village could!"

"Perhaps," Spacious thrummed, "But you forget..._I don't fight fair_." Another chuckle. "But what does it matter. Tomorrow is the deadline, Woman. They've failed you. They will either watch you die...or surrender. And I know they could never watch you die in front of their eyes. They're far to noble for that. No, they'll surrender. And I'm going to take you all to Caesar. I'll be made an official in his mighty court."

"And what will happen to me and my friends?" Panacea asked lowly, already anticipating the answer.

Spacious laughed. "Your worthless people will be sent wherever Caesar sees fit. I might even request that he give you to me. Many would make fine servants; slaves. Those who refuse to conform to my will shall be sent to the arena." His voice turned into a gleeful whisper. "And I will enjoy watching them die. To the very last man, woman, and child."

Panacea gasped, to struck with horror to reply.

The commander gave another cruel cackle. "Sleep well, Woman." The sound of footsteps approached Cacofonix's hiding place, and the bard pressed himself further against the tree. He held his breath, praying he wouldn't be seen. The Commander passed so close, Cacofonix could have reached out and touched him. And then the Commander was gone.

Cacofonix let out a shuddering breath. The only people left in the clearing now was himself, the guard, and Panacea. To his dismay, the bard could just make out the sound of soft crying.

"Be quiet," the guard growled, but Panacea kept sobbing pitifully. She had finally had enough. All the stress and terrors she had faced were starting to take their toll. She couldn't help herself. The guard took a step toward her, raising a hand as if to strike her. "I said be quiet!"

Suddenly the guard felt a tug on his arm. Turning, he found a thin soldier, hardly even coming up to his chest in height, clinging to his limb, trying to get his attention. "What do _you_ want?" he snarled, jerking his arm away. He glared down at the smaller fellow, who took a few startled steps back.

Cacofonix wasn't sure how to answer. He _couldn't_ answer. He had run out of hiding when he had seen the guard's aggressive motion toward Panacea, not thinking what he would do once he stopped the Roman. Now he stood with the large, angry man towering over him; asking questions. He'd have to do his best.

Trying to act casual, Cacofonix crooked a thumb over his shoulder, hoping that the motion would be enough answer to satisfy the guard.

"Eh? Oh, my turns up, is it?"

Cacofonix nodded.

"I thought this was Anxious's shift."

The bard shrugged.

"Doesn't matter, as long as I don't have to stay here any longer with this pathetic savage." The guard gave Panacea a mean glance. "Lucky for you." He left, giving the bard a threateningly suspicious glare on the way out.

Once he was gone, Cacofonix turned to Panacea. She was still crying, head placed in her hands as she wept. The bard quickly glanced around to make sure they were alone before moving forward to crouch in front of her. He stretched out a hand and lay it on her arm. She reacted by pushing him roughly away from her, causing the bard to stumble back, landing hard on his rear.

"Get away from me!" she cried angrily, "Haven't you monsters done enough?!"

Cacofonix was surprised at the force with which she had shoved him. But he really couldn't blame her. As far as she knew, he and Asterix were dead, and she and the other Gauls were out of time.

Carefully, Cacofonix removed his helmet.

Panacea's face went from intense anger to wordless shock. She stared into the face of her friend; one she had thought she would never see again. She was speechless; staring at him in utter disbelief. Coming forward she reached out and touched him gently on the arm, much like he had just done to her.

"Ca-Cacofonix?" She couldn't believe it. "Your...your alive?"

The bard gave her a smile. And she recognized that smile. It was like the sun coming out after an eternity of winter. Throwing all cation to the wind she flung herself forward, enveloping her friend in an affectionate hug. "Oh, thank Toutatis, your alive! I can't believe your alive!" She leaned back, holding him at arms length. "When I saw your tree hit by that terrible ball of fire, I thought...I thought..." She couldn't bring herself to say it, instead embracing him once more. "But it doesn't matter. You're alive!"

The bard disentangled himself from her arms and held a finger to his lips, shushing her. He helped her to her feet. Panacea thought it strange that Cacofonix hadn't spoken yet, but figured there was a reason.

"Have you come to get me out of here?" When he nodded, she asked, "How? What do we-"

"Hey!"

The two turned in horror. There, coming toward them with swift, threatening strides, was the big, burly guard. He was glaring and had his spear posed at the ready. Why he had come back into the clearing they'd never know. But that didn't matter. "You're not a Roman guard!"

_They had been caught!_

Panacea didn't even have time to blink before she found herself being pulled by the arm through the dark forest. She struggled to keep up with the bard as he charged headlong, holding her hand tight in his own. Behind them they could hear the bellows of soldiers sounding the alarm, and it gave them the strength to run faster. If they were caught, they would die. It was as simple as that.

It was hard to see where they were going in the dark. The only light they had was what shone down from the faint stars in the heavens. There was no moon this night, unfortunately. Trees seemed to whip by as they ran, only becoming visible to their eyes when they were almost upon them. Thorned shrubs tugged at their clothing, catching on any skin it could reach. But they didn't care. All that mattered was getting away. They were like hunted animals, leaping over stumps and ducking under low branches; frantic to escape. The forest was now alive with the sound of many soldiers. Everywhere, pinpoints of light burst forth; torches being lit by their countless pursuers.

Suddenly, Cacofonix stumbled and fell. Panacea nearly tripped over him, but she managed to stop herself in time; bending down to help him to his feet. He was panting heavily, and as she gripped him she realized he was shaking. But they couldn't stop now. Once he got his footing he took hold of her hand and continued, with Panacea watching him worriedly.

Cacofonix could feel his strength beginning to fail him. His skin felt hot, heat seeming to come off him in waves, and yet he was shivering. Great! Figures Getafix's predictions would prove themselves! He was having a relapse...and they weren't safe yet. He struggled forward, running as fast as he could. He had to get them to safety. Then his body could give out all it wanted, but at least Panacea's life would be secure.

The bard knew these woods like the back of his hand. Ever since he was a child, he had played in this forest. He knew every hiding place; every nook and cranny. And he knew where they needed to go...if he could just push himself a little harder...

There!

Slowing down, he stopped beside a very large tree. After a moment he located the entrance to a very well hidden chamber. He and a few of the other Gauls had build the hideout when they were children. They had dug it underground, intertwined beneath the roots of the mammoth timber, providing the perfect shelter. It would be nearly impossible to find, if one didn't know where to look.

Assisting Panacea down into the pit between the trunk's base, he then lowered himself, just as his legs gave out. With a pained grunt he tumbled down inside, gasping as he suddenly felt terribly dizzy.

Panacea crouched beside him, feeling around for him in the dark. She couldn't see, but she could hear. And what she heard wasn't good. Painful, ragged gasps were coming from her friend. He was hurt. She reached out, finally finding him with her fingertips. What she felt worried her further. His skin was hot to the touch. In fact, it felt like he was burning up!

"Cacofonix..." she whispered, "Cacofonix, what's wrong?" He didn't answer, and that, she knew, wasn't good. He was still shaking and wheezing; weakly taking in air. She suddenly feared that perhaps he had been injured when he fell. If he had broken something, he would need help, and soon. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she started running her hands up and down his thin arms and legs, checking for any obvious fractures. She didn't find any. She moved to his torso, running a hand over his heaving chest and sides. That's when she found it.

She gasped, pulling her hand away suddenly from his left side. It came away covered in something...something sticky and warm...

_Blood._

**...**

**Here we go, another chapter! :) Getting close to the end now. :)**


	19. A Battle Won

Panacea looked around frantically in the early morning light, trying to find something; anything, that she could use to help her friend. But the underground chamber was bare. Other than dirt and loam, it was completely empty; void of anything useful. She turned back to her injured companion.

The sound of patrols searching for them in the forest had lasted all the night. Some came very close; so close that Panacea held her breath for fear of being heard. But the little chamber was well hidden, and they were left unfound.

Now that the sun had risen, and a few faint rays had found there way down into their shelter, she could finally see, instead of just feel and hear, Cacofonix's condition. He looked horribly pale, almost white. The tremors and uneven breaths hadn't gotten any better, but they hadn't gotten any worse either. Small blessings.

Panacea had managed to carefully strip the bard of the clunky, uncomfortable Roman armor. She noted with surprise that he was clothed all in white; one of Getafix's robes, cut to his size. It looked odd; Cacofonix dressed in anything other than his blue and white checkered tunic, but she had something more important to think about than that. Spreading against the snow white material a dark, crimson spot was forming. It soaked into the fabric, growing in size as the bleeding continued. It wasn't as bad as Panacea had first thought, but it was still a lot of blood.

Panacea cursed under her breath. It was exactly as she had feared. When she had first felt the blood coming from the bard's side, she had torn some cloth from her dress and attempted to staunch the flow. All the while not knowing how much he was draining, and how serious the wound was. She hadn't been able to get a look at it in the dark.

Now, in the morning light, she carefully exposed the injury and could see that the wound itself was old. In fact, it shouldn't even be bleeding at all at its stage of healing. Looking closer, she realized it wasn't a puncture mark, nor a fracture like she had feared. It was a burn. A really _bad_ burn. Tears sprang to the woman's eyes as she realized what must have happened. Cacofonix must have been in his hut when the fire hit after all! He had been inside! Her anger toward the Romans was fed by the sight of her pale friend, struggling to even take in a steady breath. He was in pain; hurt. And it was all Spacious's fault. She looked down at the bard. Cacofonix had risked his life to rescue her, even when he was like _this_.

But he was alive. They both were. She was away from the Roman camp; away from Spacious. The commander no longer had a hostage, which meant the rest of the Gauls could finally fight without risking her life. That must have been the plan. Now, she and Cacofonix were supposed to wait for the coast to be clear. So, now the question was, when would that be? And how would they know?

Cacofonix was in bad shape. Panacea just hoped he'd be alright long enough for them to be able to make it back to the village.

...

"Good morning, Gauls," Commander Spacious grinned. He and his men were once more assembled outside the village walls. He looked as smug as ever; as evil and ruthless. But something was off. There was a hint of something in his face that hadn't been there before. Asterix couldn't quite place it. Of course, he couldn't see that well either. He was standing back and to the side on top of the parapet, out of sight of the Romans below. It wasn't time to show himself; not yet.

"So, at last, we come to the day," the commander continued. He chuckled nastily. "Gauls, I have come for your answer yet again. Will you surrender?"

The Gauls gathered on the wall top frowned down on the man who had made their lives so miserable the past week. The man who had tortured their minds with fear and worry. This was it. No more cowering. They were ready to fight back.

Vitalstitistix stepped forward, glaring down at the Roman commander, meeting his cold gaze. "No. We will not surrender." He said it calmly; firmly. Leaving not a doubt in anyone's mind that he was serious.

"You're making a mis_take_..." Spacious warned playfully. But again Asterix saw an unknown emotion shadow the commander's features. Fear? Worry? "You're going to regret it. You know," he added matter-of-factually, "I have two hostages now whose lives depend on your decision. If you refuse, they'll both die."

The Gauls all froze. It couldn't be, could it? That Spacious had captured Cacofonix as well? Maybe he had...During the night, the Gaulish guards had seen the forest lit with the glow of many Roman torches. Everyone in the village knew that that meant the bard was escaping with Panacea...But what if they hadn't made it? What if the Romans had captured them. Then they didn't have a chance.; not in a million.

"Your rescuer wasn't quite what I was hoping he'd be," Spacious taunted, "I was hoping for someone a little more of a challenge, not some thin little man who couldn't even hold his own." He smiled evilly. "You're all out of options. There's nothing else you can do. Trapped and defeated. Now, are you going to surrender, or are you bent on joining your little friend, Asterix, in death?"

"I think it's time _I_ joined _them _in life," Asterix declared, stepping forward and into full view of the Romans below. A gasp of shock ran through the soldiers, as they all took a step backward in surprise, breaking rank. Even Spacious, who had up until now retained his nonchalant attitude, looked completely stunned.

"You're lying, Commander," Asterix called down. "You don't have _any_ hostages."

Spacious seemed to regain his composure. "And what makes you say that, _Asterix?_" The villain spat his name with hatred and contempt. He was smiling once more, but his eyes spoke volumes. He wanted nothing more than to murder the little Gaul where he stood.

"You're a man who likes to gloat over his victories," Asterix replied. He motioned down toward the ground below him. "For the past week, every time you have come to meet with us, you've brought Panacea with you. To let us see that we were losing. If you had caught Panacea and Cacofonix, you would have them here, where we could see them. Where are they, Commander? I don't see them." He smiled. "I think you're bluffing...I know you are."

Commander Spacious's smile became a belittling sneer. All the fake niceties fell away, leaving only pure hatred and evil. His dark orbs glinted with an unpleasant light. "YOU'LL ALL DIE!" he screeched, face red and eyes wide. The smile returned, only now it reflected only pure insanity. He laughed crookedly. "What can you do; you little worthless barbarians. You're nothing but a thorn in our side! Insects to be stomped out! WHAT CAN YOU DO?!"

"We can fight!" Asterix raised his voice, "OBELIX, NOW!"

The gate to the village was slammed open wide, almost knocked clear of its mighty hinges. The Roman soldiers' eyes opened wide fearfully. At first, all they could see was a cloud of dust in the gateway, but then as it settled, they beheld the huge, menacing shape of Obelix, the biggest Gaul in the village.

Asterix moved down the parapet steps as quickly as he could. He was feeling better today, as he had expected, but he still felt weak and shaky. Making it to the bottom of the stairs, he snatched the small, green gourd from his belt and uncapped it. He took a large swallow of the magic potion from within it, and at once felt the change. He could feel it run down his throat and hit his stomach, filling him with a warmth; a light. Energy seemed to course through every vein of his body, strengthening him. It was a feeling he had sorely missed. It meant they weren't helpless any more. All the fear and self-hate diminished in that second, leaving only confidence and determination.

Asterix joined his friend's side in the gateway. The little Gaul gave a nod, and with a burst of superhuman energy, they ran full force out the gate like a whirlwind. The Romans were panicked before they even reached them.

"Alright, everyone get out there!" Vitalstitistix shouted to the other Gauls, leading the way, sword drawn, down from the parapet. A moment later, they were all outside the village fighting with all their hearts and souls. Freedom was a possibility now. Hope had turned from a weak glimmer to a strong pulsating desire. They were going to win this! The Gauls chased, pummeled, and threw the soldiers in every direction, even without the magic potion. The joy they were feeling fueled them, giving them strength that was equal, or even more so, to the power of the potion. The Romans squealed and ran, frightened out of their wits that their victims had suddenly turned the tables on them.

The Gauls were careful not to hurt their enemies; at least, not any more than they usually would. Bruises and black eyes was the extent of their violence. Though it was hard to keep it to that level. After everything that had happened the last week; all the things they had suffered through, it was difficult not to do more harm. But they would never stoop as low as these people. Never.

Even Obelix found it easier to remember to not 'hit too hard', as Getafix had warned him. The intense anger he had before had diminished to an annoyance. He had exited the village feeling angry, but also afraid. Afraid that he would lose control again. He understood that these soldiers were only taking orders. Perhaps, like Anxious, there were others who opposed Spacious's work. It was the Commander who was the real evil. Obelix was still angry with him. Real angry. But these soldiers were just followers. And so, holding back on his strength, Obelix found himself smiling as he felt his body return to an activity that finally felt normal. He gave a Roman guard a 'light tap' which sent the poor fellow flying up right out of his sandals. Obelix actually laughed. Not a cruel laugh, not even a mean or unfriendly laugh. It was a laugh of relief. All the painful emotional hurt seemed to collapse in on itself; disappearing. He was just plain, old Obelix again. This long, dark week was finally coming to an end. Everything was going to go back to normal. Everything was going to be alright.

Spacious looked about him with a strangely calm demeanor. His hateful eyes took in the battle as he saw every ounce of his plan crumbling to nothing. All his scheming; all his plotting, had been in vein. His men were surrendering left and right. Some because they were knocked flat by the Gauls, while others simply threw down their weapons, wanting to be spared a beating. Spacious glared about him as though his very gaze might burn a painful wound into his enemies. He was angry. Not the rightful anger that the Gauls felt; not the childish anger of a sore loser; not even the slow, stewing anger of a grudge. No, this was a much stronger anger. A burning, consuming rage that grew like a quiet storm. A madness; hatred that promised death. An insanity.

The commander reached out and grabbed a spear from a fleeing soldier, snatching it to his chest, eyes burning with a bloodshot fire. And then, suddenly, he was gone. Like a dark mist, he just disappeared. And, at the moment, no one realized he was missing.

The struggle didn't last long. Most of the Romans fled the scene, running back to any number of the various outposts in the vicinity. Others, who weren't so lucky, lay in miserable heaps of dust and bruises, thoroughly defeated. The Gauls were so exhilarated by the fight that it took them a good five minutes or so before they realized that the brawl was over. They stood outside the gate of their village, blinking about them. The place was a mess. Dented Roman helmets were strewn all over. Swords, spears, breastplates, and other weapons and regalia lay abandoned in the dirt. The soil itself was disturbed, trodden by the feet of many people.

Slowly, it started to sink in. It was over...They were free. One by one, the Gauls' faces began to light up in joyful, relieved grins. The weight of stress from the past several days left so quickly it made them feel dizzy. Someone started to chuckle and soon they were all laughing. Relief and joy mixed with exhaustion. The men turned to the womenfolk up on the parapet wall of the village and waved in triumph and a cheer went up from the spouses, girls, and children.

They had won.

Getafix moved to Asterix's side at once. The little Gaul was breathing heavily, and leaning against Obelix for support, but he was smiling. The magic potion was starting to work its way out of his system, leaving him tired and worn. But that didn't matter to Asterix. He was happier than he had been since the beginning of the week when this whole ordeal had first started.

Obelix carefully set Asterix down until he was sitting on the ground and Getafix crouched beside them. The druid looked concerned, and began checking his friend over carefully.

"Getafix, I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Asterix sighed and let the druid do his work. After several minutes, Getafix finished and sat back with a look of relief on his bearded face. "You are exhausted and still recovering from blood loss, Asterix." He smiled. "But you are 'fine' besides that." He lay a hand on the blond Gaul's uninjured shoulder. "Well done."

Everyone left in the village came down and out. Families hugged and friends shook hands and clapped each other's backs. For the first time since what felt like forever, things were finally looking up. And the happiness that shone in their hearts was incomparable to anything else they had ever felt before.

Suddenly, from the crowd of rejoicers, someone shouted, "Look! Over there!" They all turned and gasped.

Panacea emerged from the forest. She was dirty, her clothes were ripped and stained, and her hair was frizzed and untidy. But what caught everyone's attention wasn't her appearance; it wasn't even the plea for help on her face. It was the pale form she was trying to support. _Cacofonix_.

The bard looked even worse than she did, and he could barely stay upright. He no longer wore Anxious's armor, and even from afar, the red blotch on his side was visible against the dirty white of Getafix's robe.

Several Gauls ran forward to help; Getafix, Unhygenix, and Fullautomatix among them. They reached the two escapees just as Panacea's strength gave out, catching both her and Cacofonix as they fell. Getafix moved to Panacea first, as she was a woman; but the girl gave a tired wave of her hand.

"No...I'm all right. Just tired...Help Cacofonix."

The druid nodded and turned to the bard, who was sitting on the ground supported by Fullautomatix's strong hands to keep him from falling backwards. Cacofonix was awake, though far paler than Getafix liked to see. His breathing was ragged and shallow, but he _was_ breathing, and that was always good. Despite his obviously perilous condition, Cacofonix was giving him a rather sheepish grin. The druid leaned forward and carefully pulled the bard's hands from his injured side, chiding softly all the while.

"Cacofonix, I distinctly remember telling you _not_ to go out alone." He moved his hand gently over the injury and pulled back when the bard flinched. "I told you you'd have a relapse."

"Yeah," Fullautomatix added angrily. If Cacofonix had been in better shape, the blacksmith might have beamed him. "You idiot! Don't you know you could have gotten yourself killed?!" His words were harsh but his tone was filled with worry. Cacofonix knew he didn't mean it. He gave his larger friend a apologetic smile. That melted Fullautomatix at once and all he could do was give the bard's shoulder a comforting pat.

"The burn in his side is bleeding again," Getafix surmised, even though anyone present could have come to the same conclusion. "But it isn't serious. But he needs rest. Help me bring him inside."

Carefully, Fullautomatix and Unhygenix helped the bard to his feet. He could barely stand on his own, but he was willing to try. They each gripped his arm and assisted him in moving him forward while the others helped with Panacea.

The woman gave a smile, which grew stronger when she saw Asterix, alive. One would have thought she would have been more surprised, but she wasn't. Even when her mind had told her over and over that Asterix couldn't be alive, her heart had refused to believe it. She was so happy, she could have hugged them all, but her exhaustion kept her where she was; safe in the hands of her friends.

Something seemed to be bothering Obelix though. He was still standing beside Asterix, but his face was stuck in a worried frown.

"What's wrong?" Asterix asked in a strained voice as he attempted and slowly succeeded in raising to his feet.

Obelix was looking from side to side, his panic visibly growing. "Where's Commander Spacious?!"

"Right here."

The cruel voice made everyone freeze. Turning as one, the Gauls were greeted by the sight of Commander Spacious. He was standing to the right of them, effectively cutting off the path back to the safety of the village. He had emerged from his hiding place, standing glaring at them evilly, a spear gripped in his hand so tightly, his knuckles were whitened by the force. He was smiling, like he always did, but this time it was different. Something was wrong. It was as though every ounce of human sanity had left him. All that was left was a monster, craving to tear them limb from limb.

"You fools," he cackled, moving forward and brandishing the spear. "You idiots! You thought you could defeat me? ME! HA! YOU ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! EVERY MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD OF YOU!" His voice rose in pitch as his madness began to take over. "YOU'RE NOTHING BUT INFERIOR BEINGS! WORTH NOTHING, LIKE INSECTS!" Several Gauls had to jump back to avoid the weapon. Spacious's bloodshot eyes wandered over the Gauls. He took in their frightened faces, the people holding up Panacea and that bard. His eyes came to rest on Asterix. The orbs shone with such madness and pure hatred that Asterix found he was actually frightened. "AND YOU!" Spacious hissed like a snake, "YOU WILL BE THE FIRST TO DIE!" The commander gripped his spear and marched toward Asterix menacingly.

Obelix quickly placed himself in front of his friend, despite Asterix's pleas for him to move. Obelix wasn't about to stand by and watch his best friend be killed. Not again. Not when he could do something about it. The others stood by helplessly. They knew Obelix had the strength of twenty men, but that would do little against the deadly point of a spear. Obelix was still a man. But Obelix didn't care. If him getting hurt meant saving Asterix's life, then he'd do it.

Spacious raised the spear in his hand, preparing to plunge it into the biggest Gaul's heart.

"NO!"

Something smashed into the commander with the force of a wild bear. It threw him to the ground, spear flying from his grasp. His attacker struggled against him, trying to pin him down, but his movements were weak; uncoordinated. Spacious found it fairly easy to throw his assailant off of him and to the ground. The commander scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and full of anger. He was surprised, even in his maddened state, to find that it was the bard.

Snatching up his spear, Spacious spun on his heal, brandishing his weapon toward the Gauls who had stepped forward to help their friend. "Stay where you are!" the commander screeched. He gave Cacofonix a vicious kick in the side when the bard tried to rise, causing him to gasp and moan as the air was driven from his lungs. Again, some of the Gauls stepped forward, but Spacious yelled, "Stay back!" The Gauls flinched, their eyes full of fear, and Spacious grinned to see it. "You all ruined my plans!" he growled. "But I will not be defeated! Surrender or I WILL KILL HIM!"

Cacofonix's eyes were watering with the pain in his ribs. The lunatic had managed to get him right in his injured side. It throbbed terribly, and he still couldn't seem to catch his breath. The bard saw the look of anguish in his friends eyes. The same anguish that he had seen on their faces all week long. Then they had been afraid for Panacea; this time it was for him. Spacious was still using the same tactic. He had the Gauls hands tied, knowing they couldn't stand by and watch one of their own killed in front of their eyes. Spacious thought they couldn't do anything about it...and maybe they couldn't. But Cacofonix could.

Pulling back his legs, the bard forced his feet into the back of Spacious's knees with as hard a kick as he could manage. Unfortunately, his weakened condition made his attempts less than adequate. The kick was only sufficient in knocking of the Commander's balance for a moment, before he whirled around, eyes burning with intense anger. "YOU LITTLE-" Raising the spear, he brought it down with tremendous force before anyone could do a thing. Cacofonix barely had time to shift his position slightly; the spear piercing right through his shoulder instead of his heart where Spacious had intended. The weapon pinned him to the ground with a thump.

"AH!"

The agonized scream launched the Gauls out of their shocked stupor, and several men jumped forward to latch onto the commander and haul him away from the bard. Spacious scratched and bit like a wild beast, screeching all the while.

"YOU CAN'T WIN! YOU'LL ALL DIE! EVERY ONE OF YOU! YOU CAN'T DEFEAT ME-"

BAMM!...Thump!

The commander fell to the ground in a heap, four feet from where he had been standing before Obelix hit him. The big Gaul had had enough. Spacious was a monster. He was a lunatic. He was a danger. And Obelix had had _enough_. Spacious lay unconscious, not dead. Obelix had managed to keep control of his anger, holding back, but not as much as he usually did. He let a little more strength current through the blow, and no one argued whether that was right or not. They all agreed that Spacious deserved it.

While a few Gauls started to haul the Roman toward the village where they could lock him up, the rest gathered around Cacofonix. The bard was writhing in agony as wave after wave of excruciating pain swept through his body.

"Oh, by Toutatis..." Unhygenix breathed, as he and Fullautomatix tried to keep their friend from injuring himself further. Getafix was by their side, working to help their already injured friend.

"Cacofonix!" Getafix's voice sounded far away and hazy. "It's alright. You're going to be alright!"

The bard knew he was starting to black out as his vision began to turn grey and blurred. But even in his perilous condition he realized something. Something so wonderful he almost forgot the pain. From his position on the ground, he looked up into the worried faces of his friends and gave a weak smile. His voice was so soft it was a wonder anyone could hear it at all.

"I-I've got m-my voice...b-back..."

Everything went dark.

**...**

**One more chapter to go! :)**

**I would have gotten this chapter up sooner, but I lost internet just as I wrote the last sentence and lost the whole thing. I spent all last night and this morning rewriting it. HOPE YOU LIKE IT! :)**


	20. Safe and Sound

_Two weeks later..._

Things in the Gaulish village were pretty much back to normal. All traces of battle and siege had disappeared from in and around the village, and it began to fade in their minds; becoming nothing more than a dark memory. All the fear and distress began to slowly dissipate into a steady, natural routine. The villagers went back to their lives. The womenfolk cooked, cleaned, and gossiped, while the men hunted, fished, and sold their goods. Unhygenix went back to selling his less-than-fresh merchandise. Fullautomatix returned to his smith's shop and worked on all many manner of metal ware.

They were finally free of Commander Spacious's terror.

Caesar arrived the day after the battle, led by Anxious. Apparently, it hadn't been easy for the Roman guard to make it to Caesar himself, but he had faced his fears and succeeded. Caesar had been doubtful at first, but with some persuasion, was finally convinced that something was wrong. When he arrived at the village, and saw the damage that had been done, he became furious. Not necessarily because he cared anything about the Gauls; no, far from it. He was just mad that one of his own citizens had gone against his orders.

Spacious was handed over to the Roman's guards. He was to be taken back to Rome and severely punished; which either meant life sentence or working on a slave ship. Maybe both. But the point was he _wouldn't_ be coming back. Ever.

The Gauls found out that Spacious had been in Caesar's bad graces before they had even ever heard of him. He had evidently done some other misdeeds in the past that had put him on the ruler's bad side. That had been his motive for attacking. He had figured that if he succeeded in destroying the one last barbarian village to oppose the Empire, then he would be forgiven of everything, including going against Caesar's word. It explained a lot; his evil, cruel tendencies as well as the madness brought on by his defeat.

They also found out why the Roman Commander had carried such resentment toward Asterix. Apparently, Spacious saw the little, blond Gaul as the very symbol of the Gauls' resistance. Asterix was the embodied hope and courage that the villagers called on to outwit the Roman Empire again and again. And Spacious hated him for it. He loathed them because they were different; because they weren't Romans. He saw them a dirt, not even worth the space they took up on the earth. It was just what his demented mind believed. That was why Commander Spacious hated the Gauls, and he hated Asterix for being the main opposition. The little Gaul should have been easy to defeat; easy to destroy...but when he proved to be far more resilient than the Roman had thought, Spacious's hatred had grown. He saw Asterix as his main opponent. Defeat Asterix, defeat them all. But now, the threat was over, and the mad Roman was gone. Chaos was replaced by peace.

Anxious stayed with the villagers for a few days, helping to get things cleaned up and caring for Cacofonix. He turned out to be a farmer by trade, and assisted Getafix in planting one of the druid's magic acorns, thereby growing a new tree for their bard, to enjoy when he healed. The Roman also helped to build Cacofonix a new tree hut. The villagers told him he didn't have to, but he insisted.

After the few days were up, he said goodbye, wishing them all luck and fare days ahead. He gave Panacea a hug and shook hands with everyone else before leaving. He traveled back to his wife and parents, and, so they were told, later became the father of a dear, little, baby boy. He sent them letters saying that his family would come to visit in the late fall, and the Gauls were very excited.

And so began the long, hard road to normalcy.

Panacea recovered from the ordeal very quickly. Of course, she didn't have any real injuries. All she had gotten out of the dangerous adventure was some bruises and a few small cuts from her run through the forest. Exhaustion was her biggest enemy. She had hardly slept at all throughout the whole calamity. What sleep she had gotten was restless and full of unpleasant nightmares. Now, at long last, she felt she could rest safely.

The Gauls had sent for Tragicomix as soon as possible. Once he had heard what had transpired since his wife had left Condatum, hurried as fast as he could to reach the village. It was a touching reunion. Panacea had grown so accustomed to the ache in her heart that it wasn't until it was filled that she realized just how much she had missed Tragicomix. Oh, she _had_ missed him, that was unquestionable. But she had been so occupied with worrying over her friends and family, that she really hadn't had much chance to think about how scared she was; how much she had needed her husband. Now that he was by her side, she couldn't bring herself to let go of him. She was so relieved to be held in his strong arms again. And he felt the same way about her.

Asterix recovered at a fairly good rate. His battle with the Romans set him back a day or two, but he was a lot stronger then some people would give him credit for. The arrow wound in his shoulder healed at a fantastic rate, sped up by the magic potion he had consumed. Before long he was back to his usual self, hunting for boar in the forest with Obelix and joining in a fish fight here and there when the opportunity presented itself. He was glad that the nightmare was finally over.

Dogmatix could feel the change in Asterix. That intense self-loathing and helplessness was gone, much to the pup's delight. He could sense things returning to normal as old habits became new again. The overhanging cloud of doom was no more. In its place was only calm summer nights and bright, cheerful summer days. The weather had even improved, as if all the earth felt that the danger had passed.

Dogmatix was also pleased that his master was back to his old self as well. Obelix's uncontrollable anger had disappeared, leaving nothing but some unpleasant memories for them all; but especially Obelix. It was not in his nature to get so upset. But stressful, dangerous times had pushed him further then he had ever wanted to go, and he hoped that he'd never be pushed that far again.

Obelix still made sure to keep an eye on Asterix. He didn't want his friend out of his sight until he was sure that Asterix was fine again. As the days passed, and Asterix regained his strength, Obelix slowly began to ease up. He returned to chiseling and delivering his menhirs. It felt good to go back and work in his dear, old quarry. It felt good to go back to normal.

Of all the villagers, Cacofonix was the one who took the longest to heal. But, of course, that was to be expected. After he had passed out on the battlefield, a spear pierced in his shoulder, Getafix had thought they had lost him. Exhaustion, a relapse, possible shock, and a large amount of blood loss were dangerous conditions all and in of themselves; but all of them together...It wasn't good.

Getafix had never been so scared in his life. The bard's breathing was so shallow; barely there. It had been too risky to move him at first, and the druid was forced to treat Cacofonix the best he could right then and there. The others helped; following Getafix's orders to gather certain herbs in the forest. It took a terribly long while but, together, they managed to get the bard stable enough to move to Getafix's hut.

Over the next two weeks, Cacofonix's health slowly progressed from critical to steadily better. He was weak at first, but grew stronger with each passing day. The others helped him every chance they could. The men kept him company and assisted him in regaining his mobility; while the women cared for him by cooking things to help him 'heal faster', and by keeping him up to date on the goings on in the village. Everyone wanted to be a part of the healing process. Even Tragicomix and Panacea insisted on staying in the village until he was well again.

Cacofonix was very encouraged by their kindness, and with such positive feelings all around, began to heal faster. His voice, which he had been certain he would never have again, was put to good use. It took a while before it started sounding normal, as the damage from the smoke inhalation continued to improve. At first it was raspy and he coughed a lot; but slowly, that too gained strength, and, before he knew it, was back in full working order. Getafix had no clue as to how the bard's voice had managed to return, but he didn't care. No one did. Because all that mattered was that it _was_ back.

When Getafix declared Cacofonix truly well again, the villagers planned and prepared a feast. They went all out for it. Boars were caught, as well as fish (courtesy of Unhygenix). Bread was baked, wine casts were opened, and the women made all manner of Gaulish desserts. In other words, a typical Gaul feast. They had them on a regular basis. Whenever Asterix and Obelix returned from an adventures, or won a battle, they would all sit down around a U-shaped table with a fire for roasting boar right in the center. They would eat and tell stories, laugh and toast success. And that's what they were doing tonight. Just an ordinary feast...but with one thing changed.

Usually, during their celebrating, Cacofonix was excluded, due to the fact that everyone was afraid he'd start singing. They'd tie him up, gently of course, and either fasten him to the trunk of a tree or hang him from one of its branches. They never meant anything bad by it. It was just that the bard's singing was practically unbearable. And that was the only surefire way of shutting him up. It didn't happen all the time; there were times when he was included, but those times were few and far apart.

But at this particular feast, one thing was different. Cacofonix was left free. In fact, the feast was in his honor; celebrating his recovery. It was the least they could do; he had saved Obelix's life...maybe all of their lives.

The food was fantastic, as was the wine. The firelight glinted off of the goblets and gleamed against the beautifully toasted skin of the boars on their plates. It was spectacular. Better than Cacofonix had always thought it looked as he hung in the foliage; watching. Now, as a guest at the feast, he was able to actually _hear_ the stories, _taste_ the vittles, and _enjoy _the company of his friends. It filled him with such happiness, he wasn't sure what to do. He felt he should do something; _say_ _something_. And so, after the main course had been ingested, the bard carefully climbed up onto the tabletop, as he had seen speakers do in the past. It took a moment for him to be noticed, but soon everyone had ceased their talking and all eyes turned their attention to him.

He gulped nervously and then began. "Thank you, everyone. Thank you, but you needn't worry...I will not be singing tonight."

To say that the villagers weren't relieved would be a lie, but they _were_ curious as to why not. Cacofonix would never have declined to sing before, and the fact that he refused now was worrying. Several Gauls blinked in confusion as they all leaned forward, watching the bard.

"I...I don't think that what I have to say can be captured in song," Cacofonix continued. He glanced down at the table, obviously very uncomfortable. "It's just that...Before the whole disaster with the Roman Commander; before my tree was burned down...I...well, I wondered if I really mattered to anyone."

The Gauls' hearts sank with these words; no one more than Fullautomatix and Unhygenix. They all remembered the times they had teased the bard; made fun of him. They thought back to when they would kick him out of the village whenever he sang. Or hit him. But now, after all that had happened...It was a painful memory for them all.

Cacofonix paused, looking up from the table at their guilty faces. No one met his gaze. "There was a time I thought I was useless; a burden to everyone. I thought that no one cared about me; that if I left, or something happened to me...no one would even notice."

Everyone sank lower in their seats with shame. They couldn't imagine how much they had hurt their friend, for him to think such things about himself. It was almost worse then anything else they had experienced two weeks ago. They felt as though they didn't deserve to be at the feast at all. The food on their plates suddenly didn't look all that appetizing anymore. Just the sight of it made their throats feel tight, and their hearts feel heavy and achy. No, they didn't deserve any of this.

The bard let out a soft sigh. "I _thought_ that was true...But I was wrong."

Blinking, the Gauls returned their attention to Cacofonix, their eyes wide as the bard continued.

"If that had been the case, then I would have died up in my tree house as it burned to the ground. If that was the case, no one would have risked their lives for mine. No one would have helped me, and treated my injuries. No one would have cared for me; trying with all their might to save me. If that had been the case...If I really didn't mean a thing to anyone...I wouldn't be here." He swallowed, and his eyes started to mist, shining in the firelight. "And I just want you to know...That if...If there ever were a way for me to show you half the kindness and love you've shown me...I wouldn't hesitate to return it with everything I have. Be-because you all mean a lot to me...And...And..." He closed his eyes as the emotions swept over him and he stood there, head bowed and hands clenched at his sides.

There was a long, silent pause. No one moved as the entire village population sat, eyes wide and , in some cases, mouths agape in surprise. They looked up at their bard, and their hearts slowly filled with a new feeling. Something much stronger than the guilt and the shame. It was a warmth that spread from their souls to every tip of every finger and toe. Cacofonix's words chased away the last traces of darkness, that they hadn't even known were still clinging to their minds. Everything felt clearer, more real; as though they were truly healed from the scars of two weeks before. Things were normal again. Better than normal.

...But no one knew what to say. Cacofonix had just poured his heart out to them, and all they could seem to do was gaze up at him; dumbfounded. They looked at him,_ really_ looked; and for the first time they saw more than just a bard. More than just another villager. Cacofonix was a brother. They all were. The Gauls weren't a village...They were a family.

Panacea sat beside Tragicomix to the bard's left. As the silence continued she carefully detached herself from her husband's arms and climbed up onto the table. Every eye watched her as she gently crept closer to Cacofonix, whose eyes were still clenched shut. She lightly placed a hand on the bard's shoulder, and Cacofonix jumped slightly. He looked into her deep, glittering, blue eyes. He almost looked apologetic.

"I...I just wish there was some way I could show you all how much it means..." he whispered.

Panacea gave a gentle smile and spoke. Her voice was soft, like a downy feather on the wind, but everyone found they could hear her. "You already have." She then pulled him forward, gripping him in a firm hug. It seemed to take the bard by surprise at first, but then, after a moment, he returned the embrace.

That snapped everyone out of their silence. Before Cacofonix and Panacea had separated, they were surrounded by villagers, all smiling, laughing, and showing their affection in the form of hugs, handshakes, and friendly claps on the back. Before long, there wasn't a person left around the feasting table; instead they were all on top of it. So that they could all be together; as close as a family.

The rest of the feast was wonderful. The Gauls ate until they were stuffed. They danced until their legs gave out. They smiled and laughed until their faces hurt. And they stayed up until their eyes slowly slid shut on their own accord. They could rest easy; knowing that they were all safe within the confines of their wall. Dreams would be filled with pleasant thoughts instead of worries and fears. The night in the forest became dark and quiet, but that didn't matter. Because, after all they had been through, and until the next adventure found its way to the village of indomitable Gauls, everyone was...

...Safe and sound.

THE END

**...**

**There it is everyone; the end. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Would you believe that this story originally started as just a little something I wrote with no intention of continuing? I didn't plan on sharing it. I didn't even know how to continue! But with your encouragement and reviews you inspired me to continue. You are as much the creators of this story as I am. So thank you very much from the bottom of my heart.**

**I will no doubt write more Asterix stories sometime in the future. ;)**

**THANKS AGAIN!**


End file.
